


The Best Chance

by raspberryhunter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Family, Gen, Parents & Children, Ratings: PG, Reunions, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberryhunter/pseuds/raspberryhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some families are bound by blood, some by law, and some simply by choice, but family always finds one another. Season 1 AU. (Completely non-compliant with Season 2.)</p><p>Prompt:  <i>I want to see [the characters of Emma and Gold] on a more equal and honest footing... Or an AU where August and Emma were placed in the same home as Baelfire, and they all grew up much more functionally, and came to Storybrooke prepared.</i></p><p>Prompt: <i>How does Gold turn back from the sort of person who tortures Moe French to the generous sheep farmer Bae longs for? Does he even want to?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Visitor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jedibuttercup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/gifts).



> Besides the obvious AU changes to fill the prompt, I've also postulated a slightly-different set of ways to break the curse, which should be obvious from Chapter 3 (mostly because if they'd actually come prepared like this, they'd have broken the canon curse right away and the fic would have been really short, but also because I could not resist making a bit more sense of some of Gold's canon machinations).
> 
> Thanks to vikingswriter, easytheregenius, and elementals for beta-pinch-beta-general-help for various chapters. Many thanks to Beatrice_Otter, who had quite a few helpful comments and encouraging words, and without whom this fic would be rather worse than it is. Special thanks to ensconcedinya for much draft-reading (often on short notice), general hand-holding, problem-fixing, and listening to me rant. 
> 
> First draft written for the not_primetime ficathon, but the final version didn't get finished on time. (Because of this, two scenes in later chapters have common elements with scenes in my NPT fic, [As on a Darkling Plain](http://archiveofourown.org/works/466977).)

Emma turned the key and opened the door of the apartment to see her roommate sprawled on the couch. Baelfire was typing on his laptop, as usual. "Happy birthday!" he said as she came in the door. "You're late," he added, glancing back down at the laptop.

Emma scowled. "Yeah, well, someone's got to work around here," she replied, peeling off her jacket. 

"I work," objected Bae mildly, "but I get off at five like normal people."

Emma relented. "Yeah, I know. Sorry, Bae, I'm just in a crappy mood. The guy I was chasing was late for dinner, and then he flipped the entire contents of the table on me and tried to run. How was your date last night, anyway? Better than that, I hope."

"All right," said Bae, shrugging.

Emma was able to decode that as _She wasn't certifiably insane, but she didn't know anything about what we're looking for_. Bae had, she estimated, gone on dates with some of the flakiest women in Boston, trying to ascertain whether they knew anything about the curse. So far, the women who put "Fairy Tales" in their dating profiles appeared to be either narcissistic or detached from reality. Emma wondered which one last night's had been, but did not ask.

Bae sighed, ran a hand through his thick hair. "Never mind that. August sent you a postcard -- he's in Tahiti or something. I think he's planning on staying far away until everything goes down. And I got you a birthday cupcake."

Emma rolled her eyes. "You couldn't even make it a whole cake? Classy, Bae." She walked into the kitchen. The odds that Bae had not been fretting about her birthday all day were not good. She gave it ten seconds before he said something about the curse. Ten, nine, eight...

"This is the year, right?"

Seven seconds ahead of schedule. Emma said, "According to August, it's the year. Twenty-eighth year, Rumpelstiltskin said." She ignored, with the ease of long practice, Bae's reaction to the name of his father. 

"But we don't even know where to go--"

"I imagine we've probably got the whole year. If nothing's happened in three hundred sixty-four days from now, then you can panic. Just knock it off for one minute so I can enjoy my birthday cupcake, okay?" She looked around. "Where is it, anyway?" She opened the fridge. "Oh. Huh. That actually doesn't look half bad." Her breath caught, just a little, at the blue star candle. She carried it to the table, found a match, and lit the candle.

"Make a wish," Bae said softly, "on the blue star."

She closed her eyes briefly and blew out the candle. Almost the second she did so, the doorbell rang. "Did you invite someone else to our little party?" Bae asked.

Emma frowned. "No, who else would I invite?" she asked, going to open the door. Who else, indeed, would know about the Enchanted Forest, would be welcome in their lives, would understand their purpose?

Standing there was a boy, perhaps about ten years old. "Uh," Emma said, "can I help you?"

"Are you Emma Swan?" he asked.

"Yeah. Who're you?"

"My name's Henry. I'm your son." He pushed past Emma into the apartment, stared bemusedly at Bae.

"Whoa!" Emma said, holding up her hands. "Hey, kid! Kid! I don't have a son! Where are your parents?"

"Ten years ago," the boy said, "did you give up a baby for adoption? That was me."

Bae drew in a sharp breath. "Give me a minute," Emma said, beating a hasty retreat to the bathroom. She heard, behind her, the kid asking Bae, "Are you my dad, then?" and Bae laughing: "No, definitely not, although I do know him --"

In the bathroom, she could still hear Bae and the kid murmuring in low voices. The kid. She'd thought -- she'd thought that she was done with him. She'd thought that piece of her life was over, wrapped up and given away --

"Emma!" Bae yelled. "Get out here!" Emma looked at the bathroom mirror, seeing her frown reflected. It wasn't like Bae to raise his voice, even when he was upset. She sighed, stepped out of the bathroom, looked at Bae and the kid. Bae gave him a little nudge towards Emma. "Show her what you showed me." His voice had an undertone of barely suppressed excitement.

The kid -- what was his name again, Henry, that was it -- eyed Bae suspiciously. He held out a large leather book to Emma. _Once Upon a Time_ , Emma read on the cover. She raised her eyes to frown at Bae, who was regarding the book intently. Could this be -- She opened the book, started flipping the pages. Her eyes widened. "These aren't -- the usual fairy tales."

"They're real," Henry said, eyes guarded. "Everyone in Storybrooke, where I live, came from the Enchanted Forest. Came from these stories." Emma had the distinct impression that he was waiting for the two of them to say _No, those stories were made up_ , or _Don't be ridiculous_.

"Yeah," Bae said softly. "Yeah, kid. They're real. We both came from there too."

A shy smile spread across Henry's features, making his face light up. The smile did something to Emma's insides. "You did too?" he asked, wonderingly.

Bae nodded. "I... came through from a different time. I'm not in the book, I think. I'm not one of the characters you would know." Emma gave him a sharp glance. That was the truth, of course, as far as it went, but she'd seen the name _Rumpelstiltskin_ in the book.

"So," said Henry, "you guys know about the curse, then?" Bae and Emma both nodded. August might be in Tahiti now, but before he'd left he'd drilled them both in everything he could remember about the curse, about the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest, until Emma thought she could recite the stories in her sleep. "Will you both come back with me to break it?"

"Yes, we need to go tonight," Bae snapped at Henry. "Do your parents know where you are? They're probably frantic!"

"I don't have parents. Just a mom, and she's the Evil Queen."

Emma stared at Henry. "Queen Regina is your _mother_?"

"Yeah. She doesn't love me. She just pretends to."

"Okay, kid," Bae said, "that's rough, I agree, having her as your mom. But she's your mom. I'm sure she loves you. We need to get you back right away."

"But she --" Emma began furiously. She stopped, considered Bae. Considered who his father was. "Um. Right."

*

Henry had fallen asleep in the back of the car. Emma, driving, wished she could sleep. Bae was silent, though awake; Emma occasionally glanced to the side to see him, eyes wide open, staring off into space.

"Bae," said Emma, her voice pitched low so as not to wake Henry. "Listen. I'll let you know if I need someone to keep me awake. You should get some rest."

Bae sighed. "I'm fine, Emma."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Who was it again who made me practice truth-telling until I could even tell when you and August were lying? Come on, Bae." She knew that it was always better, when Bae started getting into these moods, to force him to talk about them instead of letting him sink deeper into melancholy. "We're getting closer to your father, I know."

"Yeah." Bae sighed again. "We've been over all of this before. I just wish -- I wish I knew why August knew so much about Rumpelstiltskin, and had never heard of me. That the Dark One took him over so completely that he forgot me -- "

Emma tried to make her voice as gentle as she could. "You don't know that he forgot you. Just because August didn't know doesn't mean anything. He was seven."

"I know the kind of monster the magic made him into. I believe August was very clear on that. Turning people into puppets, Emma?"

"Maybe you can ask him yourself, once we get there."

"Except I can't," Bae pointed out. "Henry says no one remembers, right?" 

"Yeah," Emma said softly. It was what she had been telling herself for the whole car ride. _My mother won't know me. My father won't know me. They'll be there, Henry thinks Snow White, at least, is there -- if we can trust a ten-year-old kid -- but I shouldn't expect anything._ "Well. That's why we have to break the curse. So we can talk to them."

Bae said, "I hope at least that we'll be able to find some information about the curse. What if we get there and we can't figure out how to break it?"

"No," said Emma. "You taught me about magic, you were the one who told me that's not the way of magic. In curses like these, there's always a loophole, always a route to breaking them. There's always a way." She tried to sound confident, but wasn't sure she'd quite managed it.


	2. The Return

"Please don't take me back there," Henry said as Emma marched him up the walkway to the large white house, after she'd dropped Bae off at Storybrooke's only inn to get them rooms. "Can't I just go with you? Stay with you, or Bae, at Granny's--"

"No, you can't," Emma said, her temper fraying. "I'll stay in Storybrooke, I promise. Bae and I will do all we can to break the curse. But she's your mom, you know, we can't just take you away --"

The door to the house opened, and a woman peered out. She had what was clearly an expensive haircut and expensive tailored clothing; Emma, still in yesterday's clothes, felt rather grubby. This was the caster of the curse? Did she remember? The other woman's eyes widened, and she rushed toward them. "Henry -- Henry! Are you okay? Where have you been? What happened?"

"I found my real mom," Henry answered. He ran into the house.

"I'm sorry," Emma said. It was hard to hate the woman in front of her, her eyes filled only with concern for her son. "I told him not to --"

"You're Henry's birth mother?" the other woman said, staring at her.

"Um, yeah. Emma Swan."

"My name is Regina Mills," the other woman said. "And I think we both need a drink."

Before Emma knew what had happened, the woman -- Regina, her name was still the same, Queen Regina -- had ushered her into the house and was pouring her a glass of apple cider. "With a kick to it," she said, with a smile that quickly turned serious. "Now." She sat down across from Emma. "I was told the birth mother didn't want to have any contact."

"Yes," Emma said, watching her carefully for hints that she might remember her Enchanted Forest self. So far, she'd been unable to find any. "But I'd been looking to move, and Storybrooke seems like a nice place. I --"

Regina leaned forward. "This is not an invitation back into Henry's life. Miss Swan, you made a decision ten years ago. And in the last decade, while you've been -- well, who knows what you've been doing -- I’ve changed every diaper, soothed every fever, endured every tantrum. You may have given birth to him, but he is _my son_."

Okay, so maybe it wasn't so hard to hate her, after all, even if she didn't remember. "I wasn't --"

"No. You don't get to speak. You don't get to do anything. You gave up that right when you tossed him away. Do you know what a closed adoption is? It's what you asked for. You have no legal right to Henry and you’re going to be held to that. So I suggest you get in your car, and you leave this town. Because if you don't, I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do." She rose. "I think we've said all that needs to be said. Goodbye, Miss Swan."

Emma gritted her teeth. She was not going to lose her temper with Regina, not this early in the game. There would be time to clash with Regina, she was sure. But for Henry's sake, she had to know now -- "You must care about Henry a lot, " Emma offered, trying to hold her voice steady.

"Yes," Regina said flatly. "I care about him very much." And Emma knew she spoke the truth.

Emma, full of conflicting emotions, nodded at the woman tightly as she left. She forced herself to turn her thoughts away from the Queen -- from Henry-- and toward what she'd do next. There was one more thing she wanted to do before going back to the inn, one thing she wanted to do without Bae or Henry around. _Just to see._

*

Emma watched the slight, black-haired woman smile gently as the girl in front of her handed her a pear. "Thank you, Paige." She was definitely the one. Even had Henry not confirmed it, the woman in front of her was the image of the Princess Snow August had drawn for her as a girl, the image of the picture in Henry's book, only with shorter hair.

"You're welcome, Miss Blanchard," Paige said, with a shy smile back, and ran off. The woman smiled wryly at the girl's departing back before doing a small double-take at seeing Emma. "Er, hello there. And you are--?"

Emma saw nothing more than politeness in the other woman's face, and her heart sank. "Emma Swan," she said, holding out her hand. There was not so much of a flicker of recognition at the name. "I'm --" 

She hadn't thought this far ahead. _I'm your daughter. I'm the one you sent through the wardrobe._ She could see that wasn't going to go over well. "I'm -- Henry's -- bio-mom." Saying it aloud for the first time gave it a reality in her head that hadn't been there before, even if she was only saying it to give herself a plausible cover story.

"Mary Margaret Blanchard. Please call me Mary Margaret." As their hands touched, Emma saw a slightly curious expression on Mary Margaret's face, as if she were struggling to remember where she'd seen Emma's face before, but the look subsided into one of general interest. "Pleased to meet you, Emma Swan."

"You can call me Emma." She paused. There was one thing left for her to try. "Henry told me -- I understand that you gave him a book of stories. Fairy tales."

Mary Margaret nodded. "Yes. They're a way for us to deal with our world -- a world that doesn't always make sense. You see, Henry hasn't always had the easiest life--"

"Wait, what do you mean by that?" said Emma sharply. "Is Regina good to him?"

"Oh, yes," Mary Margaret said hastily. "One of the more strict parents I know, to be sure, but Henry is well taken care of. It's more that -- like any adopted child, he wrestles with that most basic question they all inevitably face. Why would anyone give me away." She blinked, clearly realizing what she had just said. "I didn't mean in any way to judge you, sorry --"

Emma shook her head, looking at Mary Margaret. "No, that's okay, er, Mary Margaret. I was in the foster care system myself, but I always knew that my parents gave me away because they wanted me to have my best chance." Her eyes caught Mary Margaret's, held them, as if she could will Mary Margaret to understand. Perhaps someday she would. "That they were trying to save me. I know that. I want you to know that."

Mary Margaret drew in a breath, looking a bit confused. "Your parents are lucky you understand that," she said slowly.

"Mary Margaret --" Emma hesitated. But if she were right, there was no point in dragging it out any longer -- "um -- so you know how Henry's book has this curse in it --"

"Oh, yes," Mary Margaret agreed. "Poor boy. He thinks I'm Snow White."

Emma winced. "Yeah. So, um, he thinks I'm here to break the curse. I promised him I'd try. You know, to make him feel better. Okay, this is going to sound bizarre, I promise I'm not trying to hit on you, but you know how in his book the curses are broken by a kiss --"

"You want to _kiss_ me?" Mary Margaret gave her a considered look. "That's -- very odd."

"Yeah, I know," Emma muttered, starting to turn away. "Um. Stupid idea. Never mind."

Mary Marget said, "But it sounds like something Henry would ask for. And I -- trust you, I think. Even if I'm not quite sure why." She laughed, somewhat nervously. "Um -- I guess you can. For Henry."

Before Emma had a chance to lose her momentum, she closed her eyes and quickly, deliberately, kissed Mary Margaret's cheek.

Nothing happened.

"Well," Mary Margaret said, her voice bright and brittle, "that's too bad. I was hoping for-- rainbows. And unicorns. Unicorns would have been nice."

*

Emma trudged inside the inn, only with difficulty getting the attention of the proprietor and her granddaughter, who were busy sniping at each other. "Hey. Hello? My friend Bay Fyre was just here and booked us two rooms."

"Oh!" the grandmother said, looking pleased. "Yes, that pleasant young man. How exciting to have _two_ customers! And your name--?"

"Emma Swan."

A new voice: "Emma. What a pretty name." 

Emma turned to see a neatly-dressed man, leaning on a cane. _He's under the curse, he can't know the truth_ , Emma thought, and she wondered why he had bothered to remark on her name, a name that would be unexceptional except to someone who knew the details of the curse. "Uh - thanks."

He nodded politely, turning from her to take care of some sort of business with the grandmother and granddaughter pair. She noticed he had a slight limp. "It's all here, Mr. Gold," she heard the older woman say. She wondered who Mr. Gold had been, in the Enchanted Forest, to give him that sort of respect, almost fear, that she heard in the other woman's voice.

"Emma!" She turned at Bae's voice. "There you are. It took you long enough to drop off Henry; did the Qu-- the Mayor try to poison you, or something?" 

"Uh, no. I made another stop --"

"Oh, _Emma_. I thought we'd agreed you weren't going to do that. Doesn't look like it went well."

Bae had counseled her against it, of course. It was not pleasant to acknowledge that he was right. Emma shrugged. "Yeah. It kind of sucked," she said briefly. "She doesn't remember at all, like Henry said."

Mr. Gold was watching this whole exchange with a raised eyebrow and a quizzical look. Bae, finally noticing the other man, made a strangled noise, all the color draining from his face. Emma, finally realizing who Gold must be, stepped quickly to Bae, shielding his reaction from Gold. "Hush," she whispered. "I know, I felt that way when I saw Snow. But they don't remember. We'll have to figure out how to break the curse first, just like you said." She raised her voice. "Okay, Bae, I've got my room key -- I'm all set."

She heard a sound behind her. She turned to find Mr. Gold had dropped the money he held and was staring at the two of them. "Bae? _Baelfire_?"

Emma looked back at him, wide-eyed. _He knows! He remembers! How?_ She glanced at Bae. Bae had eyes only for the man in front of him. "Papa," he breathed.

"I--" Mr. Gold started towards Bae, his hand extended; stopped. Bae's arms were crossed. Emma could see he was close to becoming very angry, and so, apparently, could his father. "Bae. Son." Gold swallowed convulsively, dropped his hand. "I hoped -- I didn't know --"

"Did you remember me?" Bae whispered. "Did you even _try_ to find me?"

The naked longing and pain on Gold's face hit Emma like a blow. "Bae," he said, low. "I know nothing can make up for letting you go. I know. But if it's any consolation -- I have spent every waking hour since then trying to get you back." 

His words rang with truth in Emma's ears. When Bae glanced at her, his heart in his eyes, she gave him a tiny, decisive nod. Bae's face crumpled, and he started to weep. "Papa," he said again, and this time Gold came to him, folded him in his arms. "Oh, my son," he said brokenly, "my son."

"I'll, uh," Emma said, unable to stop herself from grinning hugely, "go to my room now. I'll see you guys later."


	3. The Curse

"You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone," Gold said menacingly to Granny and Ruby. "Not a single soul, and _especially_ not the mayor." The two women nodded, looking frightened. Excellent. As long as they feared him more than the Mayor, that was the important thing.

Baelfire frowned deeply. Gold considered him. Gold knew, from Baelfire's previous conversation with Emma, that both of them knew about the curse on Storybrooke. Did he not realize how dangerous Regina was, how she could use information about him as leverage? "Let's go to your room, Bae." They walked down the hallway; Gold waited until they were both safely in the room and the door locked and bolted before he spoke again. "If the Queen learned of you, my boy -- well, let's just say I'd like to keep our relationship secret, for the time being." He smiled at Baelfire as he sat down on the bed. _Bae, here! now! after so many years --_ "Now that I've found you, though -- that's all that matters." He hesitated. "How did you come to be here with Emma Swan?"

Bae gingerly sat down on the bed as well, not quite close enough to touch Gold. "How do you know Emma's name?"

"I heard it downstairs, when she told Granny and Ruby, the proprietors of the inn." He omitted the trifling detail that he'd known the name for much longer; that he'd known it for twenty-eight years.

"When I... went through to this world --" Gold noticed particularly that Bae did not say _was let go_ , and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding -- "I ended up in a foster home. With another boy, about the same age, who told the most curious fairy tales to his seven-year-old little friend..."

Gold nodded. "And that was Emma. And Pinocchio. I see." And he did. The curse had worked as he had planned, even though he'd known it was a gamble. Emma -- and Pinocchio, as it happened -- had always been meant to show up in this world at the same time and place as Bae. Rumpelstiltskin, in making the spell, had feared that Pinocchio, his nature being what it was, would abandon Emma, which would mean Bae would not know who Emma was even if they had managed to connect. Clearly, however, Rumpelstiltskin had underestimated the puppet boy.

Bae's eyes narrowed. "How did you know about Pinocchio? For that matter, how do you remember anything at all, when the curse has made everyone else forget?"

Gold considered his possible responses. If Bae had known Pinocchio, he would have been told the stories Pinocchio knew about Rumpelstiltskin. "You know I was a magical being, son. I knew many things, many people. And my magic shielded me from the curse." It was even the truth, though missing key elements.

Bae looked dubious but nodded slightly. "And your magic -- " Bae stopped. "No, we can discuss that later. Papa. There is something I wanted to ask you. You've got a lot of magical... experience. You must know something about the curse. Can you help Emma to break it?"

"Bae," Gold began, "now that you're here, now that I'm with you again, that's all that matters --"

Bae crossed his arms. Gold had a sudden memory of a much younger Baelfire saying, _You made a deal with me. Are you backing out?_ "I remember my father was kind. Generous. Are you the father I remember?"

Gold stared at Bae. Bae raised his chin, an echo of the fourteen-year-old Gold remembered, and stared back. "Emma is my closest friend, the only person I've been able to talk to about the Enchanted Forest for many years. I've promised to help her break the curse -- and my father raised me to keep my promises. Show me you're the father I knew. Help Emma break the curse too. When it is gone, then I'll know who you are."

Gold was silent for a long time. Finally he nodded. He covered his son's hand with his own. "I'll help Emma. For your sake, son."

Bae's lips quirked. "That's a start." He rose. "Let's go talk to Emma."

Gold started to protest -- he wanted more time alone with Bae first; _what have you been doing all these years? Tell me who you are, what you have become, what have I missed?_ \-- but he saw from the set of Bae's jaw that pushing him on this would have no effect. He nodded again, instead, and followed Bae.

*

Bae, echoing Gold's caution earlier, closed the door to Emma's room and bolted it. Good, Gold thought; Bae was still a quick learner. "Papa's agreed to help us break the curse," Bae announced to Emma, glancing at Gold. Gold heard his voice waver, very slightly.

Emma, apparently, heard it too; she shot Bae a quick, concerned look before turning deliberately to Gold. "That's great." She held out her hand, which after a moment, Gold took. He immediately sensed the power swirling around her. Ah, yes, of course Emma Swan, the savior, would attract the magic. Through his magical sight, if he looked closely, he could even see faint whorls of magic near her, as if the very air of Storybrooke clung to her, yearned for her. "Thanks very much, Mr. Gold -- or should I say Rum--"

Gold said smoothly, "Perhaps it's better to refer to me as -- Mr. Gold. That's who I am, now. And, perhaps more to the point, that is the man the Mayor knows."

"Does the -- Mayor -- know the truth?" Emma asked, waving her hand at the two of them to sit down. Bae, rather than sitting, perched at the edge of the table. Gold's mouth tightened as he realized Bae had chosen the point in the room farthest from him. He sat down in the chair closest to him, avoiding Bae's eyes.

"A good question. I'm not entirely sure. The curse was built so that she would have the option, but as far as I know, she's never displayed any overt knowledge of the situation. It may be that she decided she would rather be -- Mayor Regina Mills -- than Queen Regina, and did not choose to retain her memory of the Enchanted Forest."

Bae regarded him keenly. "But not likely, you think."

"Not likely," Gold agreed. A wish for revenge like the one Regina possessed did not work well with the loss of memory. "But possible."

"Well," Emma said. "I suppose it doesn't matter, in the end, as long as we break the curse."

Bae said, "We tried to prepare as much as we could, Papa. I learned about computers, just in case technological prowess might come in handy." He looked around at the rotary phone, the ancient lamps. "Well. Maybe technology won't be the answer, here, but in this world it often is. Emma and I found all the information we could about magic, all we could find in this world. Emma trained, she even learned how to wield a sword, just in case --" Gold raised his eyebrows. Ah. That would make things quite... nice. "-- I thought there could be residual magic, although this, this is a land without magic, right?" 

Gold could see the undertones of fear in Bae's voice, the suppressed panic in Bae's glance to him. "Yes," he said, "this is a world without magic." He paused, thinking of Bae, remembering the little nod Emma had given Bae, earlier. "Storybrooke, of course, has its own magic, borrowed from our land."

As he said it, he watched the interplay between Bae and Emma. Bae's eyes flicked towards Emma, who gave him a tiny, positive smile. Bae, in response, relaxed infinitesimally, a response he would have missed had he not been watching closely. He looked back at Emma. Could she, then, sense truth? The alchemy of Snow White and Prince Charming's true love, hmm -- it wasn't surprising that there was power in that.

Emma had noticed his glance at her. "Yeah," she said. "I know when people are telling the truth. So no lying to me, all right?"

Gold observed Bae's frown at her. Interesting. So in addition to a truth-sensing instinct, this Emma Swan had a habit of speaking without thinking, eh? Perhaps there was a way to turn these things to his advantage. He laid that idea aside to think about as he said, truthfully, "I wouldn't dream of it, Miss Swan." Someone as dedicated to deals as he had been, in the Enchanted Forest, learned very quickly not to lie directly. Partial truths, artfully arranged -- now that was a different story entirely.

She eyed him suspiciously. "On that note... do you know how to break the curse?"

"There are several ways," Gold said, steepling his fingers. "The first is by killing Miss Swan."

"I knew it!" said Emma, turning to Bae.

Bae said gruffly, "Let's hear the other ways."

Gold said pacifyingly, "Of course, that is suboptimal for a number of reasons. The second way is to force the Queen to leave Storybrooke. This can't be done inside of the curse, since she controls it, but externally she could be forced to leave. For example, if she were found to have murdered someone -- outside law enforcement might force her to leave."

"Okay, I see the principle," Emma remarked, "but I hope that example is not your idea of a plan, Gold, because that's the most terrible plan I've ever heard. For one thing, we're not murdering people to break the curse, that would defeat the whole purpose."

Gold blinked. "It wouldn't have to be murder. A missing person report that was thought of as murder, perhaps."

Emma stared at him. "You do realize that kidnapping people isn't that much better, right?"

Bae scowled at both of them. "Moving on... you said several ways. Is there another way?"

"One more," agreed Gold. "True love's kiss --"

"That sounds much more pleasant than dying or kidnapping people," remarked Emma. "Although--" She checked herself. "Go on."

Gold said gravely, "This is, unfortunately, also the slowest method. Everyone you kiss with true love's kiss will recover his or her memories, and when all have, then the curse will be completely broken."

Emma frowned. "Yeah, let's talk about that one a bit more. Does this have to be romantic love?"

"Well." Gold smiled at her. "There are many kinds of love, dear, aren't there? But you are right. It doesn't have to be romantic love. Love between a parent and a child -- that's one of the most powerful kinds there is. For example." He deliberately did not look at Bae. "Friendship, even, would work. But the catch is -- true love supposes both parties love each other. So they have to love you as well. That may be the difficult part." 

Emma looked thoughtful. "Okay, that explains why--" she glanced at Bae -- "um, never mind. Anyway, okay, I get it. But loving everyone in Storybrooke and then kissing them -- maybe it's not such a bad idea to look into the law enforcement angle."

"On the other hand," Gold remarked, "every time the curse is broken on an individual person, it cracks the overall curse a little more, so it may be easier to attack the curse from another angle once some of this has been done."

Emma's lips twitched. "Hey, so maybe I don't need to die, I'll just plan on getting maimed, or something. But how is it going to work if I'm just kissing them because I want to break the curse on them? Surely that's not going to be true love." 

"Miss Swan," Gold said, sighing, pushing down once again the memories that he had repressed for so many years, "everyone always wants something from everyone else. Love doesn't change that. You can have true love's kiss, and still have an exterior motive."

"All right. But please don't tell me I have to kiss the Queen. That's asking a bit much."

Gold started to laugh. What a picture that would be. "Oh, no, Miss Swan, you don't have to kiss her." he said, "Regina is the caster of the curse, not a victim of it. Though if you could give Regina Mills true love's kiss, the curse would unravel itself."

And on the other hand, kissing the _maker_ of the curse, true love aside, would have no effect at all, as the Dark One's curse had already been broken by coming to this world, and he had never been susceptible to the curse he had made. But Emma and Bae did not ask about that, and he said nothing of it.

*

Gold was in his shop, the next day, when Emma Swan pushed through the door. "Mr. Gold."

He felt it again: the curse swirling about them, eddies of power between the maker of the curse and the breaker of the curse. "Emma Swan. What brings you here?"

She considered him thoughtfully. "I'm going to have to know a lot, to break the curse," she said. "I know you have at least a bird's-eye view of all the Enchanted Forest inhabitants, and probably better than a bird's-eye view of everyone in Storybrooke. And you know about magic, and I don't. So let's talk. Tell me about -- Henry."

Henry. Emma Swan's missing son. Oh, Gold understood her very well on this particular point, understood her perfectly. He told her a little about the boy, what he'd seen of him, how he'd grown. She then, predictably, asked about Mary Margaret. Gold obediently told her about the single schoolteacher Mary Margaret, the terrible dates Mary Margaret had been on that Gold had been unlucky enough to personally witness. And about the princess Snow White; how she had asked Rumpelstiltskin for a potion to take away true love, to take away the person she was; and how Charming had found her again. He pretended to ignore the welling of emotion in her face. 

As he wound down, the intensity of Emma's gaze on him relaxed. "Thanks, Gold," Emma said, starting to turn.

"Wait."

Emma turned back, raised an eyebrow at him.

"An exchange, Miss Swan; a deal. Information for information. Tell me..." He paused, unaccountably nervous. "Tell me about Bae," he said finally. "Is he happy? What has his life been like?" _Where is he? Is he still angry at me?_

"It... wasn't really easy for us," Emma said carefully. "But we had each other -- Bae and August, um, Pinocchio, and I -- and I think that was really good for all of us. I don't know what I would have done without Bae -- he kept me from making some bad mistakes. And he's a true friend. He's committed himself to helping me break the curse, even though it wasn't, of course, anything to do with him, and even after it turned out you had your memory."

Gold drew in a breath. "How is that relevant, Miss Swan?"

She gave him a small smile. "You know why. The chief reason he wanted the curse broken was that he wanted to see his papa again." Gold closed his eyes, not wanting Emma to see how much emotion was in them. "Though he was so angry for years that I don't think he's quite gotten over it yet -- he thought that you'd forgotten about him. So when you told him you hadn't forgotten, that you had in fact never stopped trying to get back to him, that was a huge thing."

"And now I see that you let him know I was speaking the truth," Gold said softly. "Well. It appears I am indebted to you, Miss Swan."

Emma winced. "Not really. I did it for Bae."

Gold gazed after her thoughtfully as she left the shop, reflecting upon the vial of magic hidden deep in the belly of the beast, deep under the library. He had intended, in Bae's absence, to inform Emma of the magic, to have her retrieve the vial and to drop it in the well. The well was not magic in and of itself, but it amplified magic that came near it. Then, ah, then: then magic would come to this world, and he would have both Bae and the power. He would have everything.

But Bae -- remembering Bae's eyes as Bae had asked him if this was truly a land without magic, he thought that he would wait a while longer. He had waited for so many years for Bae; he could wait a little longer for the magic, although the thought of the power waiting for him made him hungry for it.


	4. White as Snow

"Ah, Miss Swan." Gold gave her a small smile as she walked once again into his shop. "I understand you're now living with Miss Blanchard."

Emma nodded. She was living with Snow White -- _her mother_! In fact, Mary Margaret had stepped between her and Mayor Mills; given her a place to stay, a -- home? -- when the Mayor had threatened to eject her from Storybrooke. She said nothing of her feelings about this to Gold. She said only: "Shall we begin?"

Emma needed to know everything, and Gold represented an inexhaustible store of information. Details about the curse, about the way magic worked in Storybrooke, about how other kinds of magic worked. Knowledge about the relationships among the citizens of Storybrooke and among their Fairytale-Land counterparts; that was already becoming useful, as she started to meet more people, and made her hopeful it might not take quite as long to break the curse as she had started to fear. His experiences of the evil Queen, and what her reaction was likely to be in any given situation. His knowledge of Henry. Of what he had been like as a small child, what he was like now, all the things she'd missed and suddenly realized she wanted to know.

She didn't flatter herself that Gold was answering her questions for the pleasure of her company. She knew why: because all of these meetings, eventually, ended with his asking questions about Bae, the life of the three of them before they had come to Storybrooke. She knew he was hungry to know everything about Bae, in the same way that Emma was hungry to know everything about Henry.

So the meetings were quite useful. And yet often she wanted to strangle Gold. Like now, for instance. 

"So your plan right now," he said slowly, "is simply to _hang out_ with people. In the hopes that you'll get to know them well enough to kiss the curse away." 

When he put it like that, it sounded somewhat less reasonable. "It's the best chance to break the curse, the way that doesn't disrupt everyone's lives."

"Miss Swan. This is all very well and good, but -- let's say it takes you six months to get to know someone well enough, and the population of Storybrooke is, oh, let's say a thousand people. That's five hundred years, dear. And that's if Regina doesn't clue in to what you're doing and take explicit steps to stop you."

Emma scowled. "All right, Mr. Gold, what would you suggest?"

"Think before you act. Get yourself in a position of power. From there you might be able to affect the chances of getting Regina out of Storybrooke. Think about plans to get her out. And if that doesn't work, well, one can do many things from a position of power; it makes meeting people and getting to know them easier, for one thing."

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like a bad idea. She sighed. "I'll consider it, Gold," she said.

He gave her a patronizing smile, as though he thought he'd been the victor here.

One of these days, she was going to _kill_ him.

*

"You're back late," Mary Margaret commented, taking the cookies out of the oven. "What've you been up to?"

"Oh," Emma replied, getting ready to snatch a cookie, "I was just talking to Gold some more, and I lost track of time."

"Those are still hot, they'll fall apart on you." Mary Margaret frowned at her. "You seem to be talking to Gold a lot lately. Emma... I don't want to pry into your business, but... he's not the nicest man."

"What, does he have a habit of carrying women off to be his love slaves? I think I could outrun him, you know."

"No," Mary Margaret hedged, "he just -- well -- he knows too much," she finished lamely.

Emma licked her fingers. Mary Margaret had been right; the cookie had fallen apart in her hands, leaving them sticky with chocolate chips. How to explain that, Gold's obnoxiousness aside, what made her so happy was exactly that: finding out more about where she had come from, finally getting the information she'd been seeking for almost thirty years; it was the sense, getting stronger every day, that she _would_ get her mother back, her father, the family she had never known -- "Well, that's the thing. He's a very good source of information -- you might expect he knows all the dirt on everyone -- and since I'm going to stay in Storybrooke for a while, I thought, hey, better figure out what he knows, especially since he's the only one in this town who'll stand up to Regina." 

"That's it, huh? That's the only reason why you're so cheerful when you come back from one of these... talks?"

"Yeah." She grinned at Mary Margaret. 

"Okay," Mary Margaret said doubtfully. "I guess I'm not your keeper. But hey -- there was something else I wanted to talk to you about."

Emma snagged another cookie, sprawled on the couch. "Okay, shoot."

Mary Margaret collected her own cookie and sat next to Emma on the couch. "Henry -- ever since you came to Storybrooke, he's seemed happier. More grounded. But lately he's started, I don't know, regressing again? He's been very quiet in class. Doesn't smile."

Emma's good mood vanished. In the excitement of moving in with Mary Margaret and finding out more about the curse from Gold, she hadn't been paying as much attention to Henry. And Bae. When was the last time she'd talked to Bae?

"You're right. I've been neglecting him. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"I didn't say you've been neglecting him," said Mary Margaret hastily. "And actually I don't think that's the problem. I suspect Regina might be getting on his case about you." She sighed. "Poor Henry. Poor Emma. And poor Regina, come to that."

Emma stared at her incredulously. "I'm sorry, did you just say 'Poor Regina'?"

"I don't like Regina very much," Mary Margaret said candidly, "and I'd understand if you hated her, but I can't help but think it's hard to be a single parent in this town, you know? I mean, look at Ashley -- have you met her? She works as a maid, she's Ruby's friend -- everyone's pressuring her to give up her baby, even though really Sean, that's the baby's father, should just stand up to his father and stand by her. It's different for Regina, of course, being the mayor and all, but some things don't change even if you're the Mayor. And I'd suppose it would be even worse being an adoptive parent, with a glamorous stranger in town as the biological parent."

Emma snorted at this description of herself. "You're way too nice, Mary Margaret."

Mary Margaret laughed. "Tell my students that when their test scores come back. Then it's all 'You're so mean, Miss Blanchard!' and 'Why didn't you give me more points for that, Miss Blanchard?'"

Emma considered the other woman. "Mary Margaret?"

"Mm?"

"Do you like being a teacher?"

Mary Margaret blinked. "I do. I really do. I feel like I can inspire the kids, you know? Though --" She laughed self-consciously. "I haven't really told anyone this. Don't laugh."

"I wouldn't." Emma looked intently at Mary Margaret. _Don't you know that?_

Mary Margaret drew up her feet, wrapped her arms around her knees, stared into the distance, a wistful expression on her face. "What I'd really like is to be the principal. I just -- there's so much that could be done differently. So often I look at what's going on, and I think, if only there were proper management, or a good strategic plan in place for the school, it would be so much better for the students --"

She gazed off into space for another moment, then shook her head briskly. "It's just a pipe dream, a silly dream, like wanting to be President. Regina would never let me, and even if she did, I don't really have any actual experience with strategic planning or management. You must think I'm awfully silly."

"I don't think you're silly at all, Mary Margaret," said Emma quietly.

*

Henry was waiting for her at his castle. "Hey, kid," Emma said, ruffling his hair. She peered at him a little more closely. He was gazing out into the distance, not really looking at her at all. "You okay?"

"Hey, Emma," Henry said, finally turning to her. "How's living with Snow White?"

"We'd better call her Mary Margaret for now," Emma said gently. Although she wanted very much to think of the woman who had opened her home to her as her mother, she knew that she couldn't, that it would defeat the whole purpose. That, for now, until the curse was broken, she needed to think of her as a woman, Mary Margaret, whom she had met, who had extended her friendship and her help and her home when she needed it.

Who was someone Emma could love, and who perhaps could come to love Emma. 

"I'm enjoying it a lot, kiddo. I never had -- a woman for a roommate, before. I never really had any woman friends, actually. Only Bae and August. Actually, Mary Margaret and I are going for ice cream tonight. Want to come?"

Henry turned from her again. "My m-- Regina's giving me a hard time again. About seeing you. I had to sneak out this time."

 _Ah_ , Emma thought, _Mary Margaret was right._ She suspected Mary Margaret often was, about the children she taught. She sat down beside him and said, temporizing, "Well, I imagine it's been a bit hard on her, my coming here out of the blue."

Henry's expression darkened. "You know she's evil, Emma! You know what she did! Why do you always take her side?"

Emma sighed. "Partially because I-- wanted you to have --"

"My best chance. I know." Henry lapsed into glum silence. 

"Partially -- Mr. Gold thinks otherwise, but personally I don't think she remembers the curse, and it's hard to be mad at her for evil things she did that she doesn't remember. And partially because --" She checked herself. Bae's story was not hers to tell to Henry, and neither were the things Mary Margaret had said about Regina.

She continued, "But anyway, I'm taking her side mostly -- because I did want you to have your best chance, and I know she cares about you. I _know_ , Henry."

"Ask her. Ask her if she loves me."

"Henry --"

"Ask her!" The intensity of his demand took her by surprise. "Ask her exactly that, Emma. If she loves me. _Promise me._ "

Emma studied Henry. Finally she held out her hand. After a slight pause, Henry took it. "Okay. I promise," she said, giving Henry's hand a squeeze. "I don't know when I get a chance, but when I do -- I'll ask her."


	5. The Deputy

Gold picked his way with his cane to where Emma and Henry were deep in consultation at Henry's castle. "Ah, Henry. Deputy Swan. Congratulations on your new job." He was glad Emma had taken his advice to move into a position of power; all the better if it were as a deputy of Sheriff Graham, who was now the Queen's man.

Emma gave him a nod in response. "Thanks, Gold."

Gold looked at Henry and at the wood-and-cloth structure in his lap. "What've you got there, Henry?"

"A kite," Henry said, regarding Gold with some skepticism. "Emma and I put it together."

Emma said wryly to Gold, "We've yet to get it to fly consistently, mind you. I'm out of practice. Henry, though -- he's great with tools."

"I thought Regina was restricting you from seeing each other?"

Henry looked away. Emma's mouth crimped. "Henry and I made a deal," Emma said. Henry started fiddling with the kite, pretending -- not very well -- that he wasn't listening. "He promised not to lie outright to Regina, and in return I don't inquire too closely as to exactly what information he's provided her with." Emma paused, then said abruptly, "So have you heard the news? Charming -- James -- woke up!"

Gold had indeed heard, as his information network stretched to the hospital, but he made an encouraging noise so that Emma would go on. There was a light in Emma's face that even Gold noticed. She continued, "James has been in the hospital this whole time, in a coma. His name here is David Nolan. I should have thought to check there. Henry figured it out, when his class went to the hospital on a field trip."

"Excellent work, Henry," Gold said gravely. Henry essayed a tentative smile. 

Emma said, a note of pride in her voice, "He was the one, not me, who convinced Mary Margaret to kiss him."

"Ah. And now your family is complete, Miss Swan. Have you tried to kiss him?"

Emma frowned severely at him. "No, of course not. He'd just woken up. He doesn't know who I am at all."

Gold did not mention that, of course, Mary Margaret had not known who Charming was either when she kissed him. By now, he expected, the Regina-implanted memories would have taken hold in Charming, and it would indeed be of no use for Emma to kiss him. He did sigh a bit. This was going to take some time, clearly. 

Emma said, still with a trace of the frown, "There's something I want to ask you about." Her eyes flicked to her boy, a clear message of _But not where Henry can hear._

"A moment, Deputy," Gold said, bending down to investigate Henry's work. It would be better if Henry were distracted. "Henry -- try moving the towing point -- that's this point here, see, where the bridle and flying lines connect -- move this on the bridle lines. Experiment a bit. See if you can find a point that works better." 

Henry narrowed his eyes, following the motion of Gold's fingers. Finally he nodded. "Yeah. Okay, I see. Thanks, Mr. Gold." The boy bent his head to the kite. 

Gold looked up to see Emma regarding him slightly incredulously. "I didn't realize kite-making was one of your talents, Gold."

The corner of Gold's mouth twitched. "I used to be good with children," he said softly.

Emma had nothing to say to that. The two of them walked away, just out of earshot of Henry, before she spoke again. "David Nolan -- he's married. To Kathryn Nolan. Do you know her?"

Gold raised an eyebrow, tested his memories. Yes. A new patch, with a woman, Kathryn, though she was something of a blur. _Ah, Regina_ , he thought admiringly, _how brave you are. Don't you ever worry that with all these new patches you put on everyone's memories, something will crack, or do you simply never worry about things like that?_ "I believe we are supposed to have met once or twice, yeah. I can't recall her, though. I suppose I should call on her, see if I know... who she is."

"I'd appreciate that," Emma said with a touch of something like relief. "Mary Margaret and David-- there's something between them, and since they don't know what it is, I'm afraid it could lead to trouble. Henry's not helping matters here -- he's so excited that David woke up that he keeps talking about Snow White and Prince Charming and fueling the flames. Keep an eye on them, if you can."

"Of course," Gold murmured. "Anything to help."

Emma said, "I suppose I'm glad that Henry was the one to convince Mary Margaret to kiss David, though. He needs something to raise his spirits."

"Oh?" Gold raised his eyebrows. "I'd think he'd be ecstatic, having his biological mother around."

Emma's mouth twisted. "Well. He seems happy enough to hang out with me. But Regina doesn't want him to, and he's having a hard time."

"And your child is hurt," Gold said softly, "and it's the worst feeling in the world, seeing your child in pain."

"Yeah." Emma glanced away. "That. It's hard."

"One can," Gold said, "feel -- worried, threatened, by a child who suddenly seems to be feeling differently about a parent. One gets ideas of how it will be, with a child, and then when it's not that way, it can be difficult."

Emma looked at him thoughtfully, as if he had said something useful. "That helps, actually. With a couple of things. Thanks, Gold."

"Don't mention it," he said, a bit bemused.

"Emma!" Henry called. "Mr. Gold! Look, I got it!" They turned to see Henry grinning hugely at them; the kite was aloft, soaring triumphantly in the sky.

*

Emma knocked at the inn-room door, and again, until Bae opened it. "Emma, you don't need to bang on it so hard. I heard you the first time." He grinned. "And congratulations, Deputy Sheriff," he said, gesturing her inside his room. 

Emma grinned back. "So you heard about that?"

Bae sat down on the bed, where his laptop was open. Some things never changed, Emma thought; the day Bae forgot his laptop was the day she'd start to seriously worry about him. "Sure, I haven't just been hanging out in this room. I've been going out and talking to people, and everyone's discussing your new job. So, what's up? Did you come to tell me about that?"

Emma sat down on one of the chairs. "Nah, I expected you'd already heard. A couple of things I did want to bounce off of you, though. First of all, I think we need to come up with a better plan for trying to break the curse, something better than just my kissing people one at a time."

Bae raised his eyebrows. "Was that your idea, or -- Gold's?"

"What, you think I would never have come up with something so foresightful myself?"

Bae's lips twitched. He looked briefly, Emma thought, remarkably like his father. "You said it, not me."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Gold's idea," she admitted grudgingly. "Fine."

"It's a good idea," Bae said. "I should have been working on it already. I'll start thinking about it. I've been talking to people, trying to get a handle on what's going on with the curse, trying to figure out Regina's possible potential weaknesses. I don't know that I have anything really solid to go on yet, though."

Emma nodded. "Bae, there's something else I want to ask you about. I wanted to ask you about your father. Do you think he's -- recovered, from the magic that was on him?"

"I've been thinking about that a lot," said Baelfire, frowning. "August and I have told you that he was out of control with the magic, that he would --" Bae shuddered-- "kill people in cruel ways. That, I think, was the Dark One in his head, not him. He isn't like that anymore, I think."

"I can feel a _but_ coming," Emma remarked.

"Yes. But I think that having the Dark One in him for so many years -- it's changed him, Emma. He doesn't kill indiscriminately -- as far as I've been able to tell, he hasn't killed anyone at all in this world -- but he'll, well, you've noticed that he'll say things, like 'Oh, yes, I forced this woman to sign a contract to take her baby against her will!' and then not understand why we think it's wrong."

Emma sighed. Indeed, it had taken a long, protracted, obnoxious meeting with Gold to convince him to give up Ashley's child. "Is that why you haven't gone to visit him?"

Bae looked down. "Yeah. Partially. Also because -- I think I got sensitive to magic, back when he was the Dark One. And -- I guess it's just the curse, the magic from the curse -- there's magic here, tied to him. I can -- I dunno, smell it, or something." He bit off whatever else he was going to say. 

Emma surveyed him worriedly. Bae's whole demeanor hinted that this concerned him more than his words conveyed. "I think he wants you to go see him, Bae. Without me. He always asks about you when I go talk to him about the curse. And the way he watches you when all three of us meet together... And he said something the last time I talked to him -- well, anyway, I think it's been hard for him, having you draw back like this. And we've been looking for him for years. I don't understand why you aren't wanting to spend every second with him that you can."

Bae looked away from Emma. "Well. But how much have you been talking to Prince Charming yourself? And have you tried breaking the curse on Mary Margaret again? It might work now, Emma. She's your friend."

"James just woke up," Emma said defensively. "From a coma. He's got other issues right now."

"Other issues than being rescued from a curse that has stolen his life?" Bae demanded. "And I notice you aren't saying anything about Mary Margaret. You're a coward too, Emma, admit it."

"Bae," Emma said steadily. "It's different, and you know it. Your father has his memory. He needs to know how you feel about him. He needs to know you love him."

Bae scowled at her. "But Gold is -- Do you know what else I've been finding out, talking to people? Do you realize Mr. Gold basically owns the entire town? That everyone's scared of him? That they dislike him more than the Mayor? It's hard for me to reconcile that with the man I knew."

"Still," said Emma, "he's your father. And you do love him, you know, no matter what the rest of the town says about him. And he didn't forget about you like you'd been fearing. Don't you think he needs to know that you haven't forgotten about him either?" 

Bae admitted, "That's the other thing. I know you told me that he spoke the truth when he said he'd been looking for me -- but how can it be true? How, Emma? You know what August said, you know he had never heard of me, you know I'm not in Henry's book--"

"Ask him, then." She made a face at him. "Go see him, Bae."


	6. True Love

Gold limped restlessly around in the office at the back of his shop, pausing from time to time to touch an object. A ring that true love once followed. A sword once brandished by a shepherd prince.

Always in the back of his head were thoughts of the magic. The true-love magic he had extracted from Snow White and Prince Charming, back in the Enchanted Forest, once upon a time. The magic that would let him wield the power he had once had. The magic that was hidden, waiting to be released. Waiting for the savior to come for it. Waiting for him to claim it from her.

The pull of it was increasing. Gold knew the magic did not have a direct effect on him -- it was too far under the library for that, dormant in the dragon's belly -- but the hunger for the power was growing in him. He was so close to having it all, Bae and the magic together. Perhaps it was almost time to induce Emma to release the magic.

If only Bae could see it his way. If only he could, then Gold could have them both. But Gold could barely talk to him. Did not know what to say to his boy, his precious boy --

The door to Gold's shop clanged. Gold called, "I'm in the back. Just a second."

He limped out into the main shop and was arrested by the sight of Baelfire just inside the door. They stared across the room at each other. Bae made no motion forward; neither did Gold. Worlds and time Gold had gone through to reach him, and somehow the length of the room seemed as far as he had ever been from his son. "Father," Baelfire said softly.

Gold closed his eyes briefly against the pain of the formality. "Baelfire. What brings you here?"

"Emma convinced me to come."

"Really," Gold said flatly. He knew it was the wrong move, that if anything it would drive Bae away, but could not stop himself. "You come to see your father solely because Emma asked you to?" And even so, he felt a grudging sense of gratitude towards Emma: just to see Bae's face, hear his voice, know he was alive and well, even if they were in conflict. If Bae knew, if he only knew, how much Gold longed for him, for his son, his family --

"Not just because of that." There was a terrible intensity in Bae's face. "The conversation I had with Emma made me start to think. Why is it that you remember and no one else does? You said it was because you were a magical being, but so was Jiminy Cricket, and I've talked to him; he clearly doesn't remember. There's something you're not telling me, Father."

Gold did not deny it. Bae knew too much, was too much his father's son; he would never have believed a denial. But he also did not say anything.

"I just want to know, Father. Have you changed, then? Is this really a world without magic? What I really wanted, have always wanted -- have you really changed, did you truly give up the magic?"

"I told you already -- Emma was even there --"

"I know," Bae sighed. "But when I thought about it again, that was no answer at all, was it? I suppose we'll find out when you and Emma break the curse."

A silence fell between them. Twice Gold thought of saying something and then thought better of it. Finally Bae looked straight at Gold, drew in a breath. "One more thing. I love you, Papa. I love you very much. Emma was right about that. She was right that I needed to tell you."

There was a pause. Then the door clanged again, and he was gone.

Gold closed his eyes. He felt some relief that Bae had not pushed the issue any further.

Surely Bae would learn to live with Gold and the magic both. Surely he would be able to, now that the two of them were together again, in the same world again. Surely he would let his father have the power that meant so much to him.

Bae would. He must. But perhaps Gold would wait just a bit longer to talk to Emma about the magic.

*

Emma was in a rotten mood as she drove back from the sheriff's station. Her mind kept going back to the moment she had told Graham she wasn't interested in him.

It wasn't completely true. He was a nice man, a sweet man, and to be honest a ridiculously attractive man, and it was flattering more than anything else to know he had feelings for her.

But he didn't _know_ anything. He had a whole life that he didn't know about but that Emma did; it wouldn't have been right, somehow. And she knew from Gold that the Queen owned his heart, so it was also possible that what Graham thought was love, or attraction, might be something else, something darker.

There was also another piece of intelligence about Graham that had come out in her meetings with Gold: Graham's affair with Regina. And Emma had been trying to stay away from Regina. The last thing she wanted was another reason for the mayor to investigate her more closely, another reason for Regina to direct her thoughts towards fighting Emma.

And he was her boss, anyway. She was fairly sure there were rules against that.

Any of these reasons would have been sufficient for her to have it out with him. But the real reason, she knew, was that he wasn't really what she wanted. She would never tell August, not now, but part of what had drawn her to him, before Henry had been born and August had left for good, had been that August knew so much about the Enchanted Forest. That he could feed her constant craving for knowledge about the world and the family she'd been born into.

But Graham -- no. Even if he had his memories -- he was a very good-looking man, and Emma liked him very much; but he was a man of action, not of information.

And so she had told him gently, but with finality, that she wasn't interested in a relationship with him. She'd even made sure to do it in the presence of Sidney Glass, who, Gold said, would surely report it to Regina. Graham's face when she told him, and again when he found out Glass had heard what he surely thought of as a humiliating moment -- 

It had felt cruel, like kicking a puppy, but perhaps it would take care of the problem. 

At least, Emma thought, she was looking forward to talking about it with Mary Margaret. Whatever the subject, it seemed better, somehow, after she and Mary Margaret had discussed it, often in great detail. She wondered idly if this was a common occurrence, with female friends, or whether it was special because of her hidden relationship as Snow's daughter; she had no basis for comparison.

As she pulled in to a parking spot near Mary Margaret's apartment, she saw David Nolan making his way to his car dejectedly, his head low, a defeated look on his face. 

God, what was it with the men problems today? Her thoughts flew from Graham to David and Mary Margaret. On one hand, she thought, David's unhappiness was a positive sign. It meant he hadn't convinced Mary Margaret of anything, that Regina couldn't seize on a potential impropriety to make Mary Margaret miserable. On the other hand, Mary Margaret was already miserable, Emma knew, and getting more miserable every day, not to mention every time Kathryn Nolan was mentioned in her presence, which Regina took great pains to do. And she wasn't sure how long Mary Margaret could last against him, not when they were both struggling against the emotions resonating from their Enchanted Forest selves, not when David's cursed self refused either to leave his wife or to give up what he felt for Mary Margaret.

Still thinking about this, she let herself in the door to see Mary Margaret scowling as she scrubbed and scrubbed at the dish in the sink. Her eyes were red, although Emma didn't _think_ she'd been crying. Emma leaned on the doorjamb, watching her. "You might want to ease up, or that brillo pad’s going to press charges," she remarked.

Mary Margaret looked abashed. "Dishes were just piling up."

"This have anything to do with David stopping by?"

Mary Margaret looked, if it were possible, even more embarrassed. "We just -- He just --"

"Hey," Emma said. "You did the right thing, telling him to go. He's still married."

Mary Margaret dropped the dishes, which clattered loudly into the sink, flung herself on the couch. "Love's the worst. I wish there was a magic cure. Maybe I don't deserve love, maybe, I don't know, there's something in me that doesn't work with a functional relationship."

Emma came to sit next to her. "Don't say that." If Mary Margaret knew, if Snow only knew, how much Emma longed for her, for her mother, her family -- "Hey. Mary Margaret. I know it sucks. But you know how nonsensical that is, what you just said. Of course you deserve love."

Mary Margaret sighed. "Yeah. Thanks for calling me out on my melodrama." She grinned shakily at Emma. "Thanks for being a good friend. I... haven't had a close friend to talk to since I was a girl. I-- really appreciate it."

"Me too," Emma said softly. Without thinking too hard about exactly what she was doing, she put a hand on the other woman's shoulder and kissed her hair.

Mary Margaret patted the hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Emma. I'm glad I have a friend like you to talk to. Emma. _Emma._ " The last was almost a quiet shriek. 

Emma looked into her friend's eyes and saw someone different there, and began to hope. "Mary Margaret? Snow?"

Snow White looked back at her, eyes wide. "Emma. Oh, my Emma." She reached out for Emma. "My own sweet daughter. You found us. I never lost hope that you would." She pulled Emma into her arms. "Oh, my darling."

"Mom. Mother." Emma couldn't stop smiling. She closed her eyes, pricking with unaccustomed tears, as she returned the embrace of her mother.


	7. Plans

"All right, Emma. So what is your plan to break the rest of the curse?"

Emma and Snow had stayed up all night talking. Snow wanted to know about what Emma's life had been, what she had done, what she had thought: the years in the foster home, the stories Emma had heard from August, the shock of finding that Bae also knew about the Enchanted Forest; Henry's birth, the training Emma had gone through so that she could be ready to break the curse. Mary Margaret had known some of it, of course, but Snow wanted to know everything. And in turn Emma had asked Snow about her life -- had basked in Snow's stories about falling in love with James, being forced to give him up; how Snow and James had rescued each other, how they had married, how they had loved their daughter before she had even been born. It had been everything Emma had dreamed of when she'd thought about finding her mother.

But it had been, Emma thought, all too short an emotional reunion. She was finding that Snow was not really one for long-term sentimentality; today her focus had almost completely moved on to the curse and how to break it. Emma wasn't a particularly sentimental person herself, but she had, if she were honest, imagined a mother who was perhaps just a bit less pragmatic than Snow.

But -- well, she supposed Snow was right; they needed to move on. Emma described to Snow everything she had found out about the curse from Gold, all the various options Bae had come up with so far to get Regina out of Storybrooke in order to completely break the curse, none of which were ideal for various reasons. Hesitating a bit, she also mentioned Gold's typically byzantine, somewhat-morally-impaired plan involving Regina being convinced to frame Snow for various crimes. At least, Emma thought, Gold had actually told them before talking to Regina about it. That was progress.

" _Rumpelstiltskin_ came up with this? It figures. Yes, and that's something else again. _He's_ helping you with the curse? Voluntarily?"

"Snow. Mother. I know his plans can be -- unfortunate, but yes, he's helping us. You need to trust me." Snow also, Emma thought, had the irritating habit of assuming that she knew better, simply because she was Emma's mother, and forgetting that they were much the same age in truth. It was wonderful to have her mother, but it was definitely going to take time to adjust to it.

"Just tell me why. Why do you think it's a good idea for _him_ to help you? I'm not just saying this because I'm your mother and think I know better." Emma looked at her mother warily, disconcerted by this maternal reading of her mind. "I'm saying it because I don't think Rumpelstiltskin has ever helped anyone unless he can get something out of it. Emma. You have to trust me too, you know. I won't repeat what you tell me, if that's what you're afraid of. But you see that it all seems a little murky to me right now."

"He's been helpful," said Emma. "He told us how to break the curse. And then there's Baelfire. He's Gold's son, as I've told you, and Baelfire talked him into helping us."

Snow looked only slightly mollified. "Yes, Bae. He seemed like a nice enough man, the times Mary Margaret met him. But if he's Rumpelstiltskin's son, then --"

Emma said sharply, "I've told you about my life. Bae has been a true friend to me since I was a kid. If it hadn't been for him, I might never have made it here to Storybrooke. Even now he's working on plans to break the curse. Will you judge him by his father rather than his own actions?"

Snow breathed out, looking thoughtful. Finally she grinned fiercely at Emma. "I will trust you to know what you're doing with Rumpelstiltskin, but I want to be part of planning to break the curse. Not because I don't trust you, or Baelfire, but because I think I can contribute as well. And I want to break the curse at least as much as you, Emma." She narrowed her eyes. "So this Baelfire has been the one coming up with plans to break the curse. Perhaps I'd better talk to him as well."

Emma nodded quickly. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea." Snow working with Bae would take some of the pressure off her, she thought, and immediately felt guilty. She suddenly understood Bae quite a bit better. _I'll never get on his case again about how he should be nicer to Gold_ , she thought ruefully.

*

Gold didn't talk to Emma Swan solely because he needed her to obtain the magic for him or because he'd promised Bae to, although those were of course the primary reasons. On the whole he enjoyed his meetings with Emma, enjoyed her brisk and skeptical mind, enjoyed answering her endless stream of questions about the curse and about Storybrooke. And -- why not admit it? -- he did also rather enjoy the few occasions he could make her smile, usually by asking his own questions about Henry or Bae; her face would lose some of its reserve, become animated, as she talked about what Henry was doing at school or about something Bae had told her years ago.

But sometimes she drove him insane. Like tonight.

They had been talking about Sheriff Graham. Or, to be more precise, ex-Sheriff Graham, now that he had been gone for two weeks.

Emma had, Gold thought approvingly, handled Graham entirely correctly. Graham had been lucky -- though he doubtless did not think so himself -- that Emma had publicly denied any romantic claim on him. Had Regina thought that Emma was taking the man away from her, that Emma was crossing her in that particular way, she would have reacted violently; if Regina Mills had access to the hearts the Queen had taken in the Enchanted Forest, she could potentially even have killed Graham. But either way, that was one pitfall now skirted. 

Graham himself was no longer present to confuse matters. Flush with the success of kissing Snow White, Emma had decided she knew Graham well enough to try the same thing on him. And the curse on him had, indeed, been broken. However, when the Huntsman regained his memories, he'd declared he was a danger to them because the Queen had his heart, and he had fled into the woods. No one had heard from him since, although Gold heard wolves, occasionally. In Storybrooke, where there had never been wolves. The literal kind, anyway.

And now it was time to install Emma in a position of power in Storybrooke.

"Gold," Emma said, "I've been thinking about when you called me in to your shop the other day, when we talked about me running for sheriff, now that Graham's gone." 

"Thinking, Deputy?" Gold murmured. "A dangerous pastime, you know."

"That sheep crap oil you were working with then. The lanolin. It's flammable."

Excellent; she'd made the connection. Now, when Gold set the fire with the lanolin, she'd be primed and ready to be a hero. Ready to win the Sheriff election. "Your point, Deputy?"

"...Gold, is this another of your complicated plans?"

 _That_ was unfortunate; she wasn't supposed to realize that until after the fire. "Why would you think that?"

She scowled. "Bae's been telling me stories about what you can do with that stuff. For twenty-one years. Answer the damn question." She watched him. "No, on second thought, you don't have to. Gold, this has got to stop."

He raised his eyebrows. "Dear, I can't see why--"

"I'm trying to work with you. I'm even trying to think ahead, trying to make plans and follow through, like with Graham. But you have to actually treat me as an adult, not as just a pawn to be manipulated."

"And if I know better? Perhaps, you know, my experience with magic and the curse means I can see things you can't. That my plans will actually work." He smirked at her. "They usually do, you know."

"It doesn't matter," she said steadily. "That's not the point. Sure, maybe you know better. The point is that, even so, it's not right if I don't get to decide for myself whether I want to be part of your master plan. Do you like it when someone else jerks you around as part of her plan?"

A sudden memory of Rumpelstiltskin screaming at the Queen, _This was you! You think you can make me weak?_ blinded him for a second.

"Gold?" Emma said, sounding a little unsure for the first time. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Deputy Swan," he snarled. "So you're trying to think ahead, are you? What, pray, are these fine thoughts dancing through your head?"

She smiled at him as if she thought she'd won some point, and started saying something about Snow having ideas about the Sheriff's election.

Gods _damn_ the woman!


	8. The Sheriff and the Shepherd

Emma looked around the apartment she shared with Snow, decorated with streamers and banners saying CONGRATULATIONS SHERIFF for this one night, and at all the people crowding into the small space. Ruby and Bae appeared to be exchanging electronic devices. Granny was holding Ashley's baby and saying something to Ashley with great earnestness, while Sean was fidgeting beside her. The old craftsman Marco was waving his hands about excitedly as he made some argument to Dr. Hopper. And there were so many others that she was just beginning to know, to perhaps come to love. 

"I'd like to say something," Emma said loudly, raising the glass in her hand.

Conversation stopped as people took in her words. "Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate my election as Sheriff," Emma continued. "I told Mary Margaret that having a party was a ridiculous idea --" a rumble of laughter, and a small smile from Snow, who had floated the idea several times before Emma had finally given in -- "but she was right --" 

"I always am!" Snow hollered, to general laughter and a smattering of applause.

Emma grinned at Snow. "-- it's meant so much to me to have you all here. I'd like to offer a toast." Emma raised her glass. "To all of you, who are the reason we're having this party, and to Mary Margaret, who was the best campaign manager I could have asked for." Emma smiled a little, thinking of how Snow had faced down Gold to run the sheriff's campaign her way. Snow had informed Gold, in a way that brooked no argument, that she'd been trained in diplomacy since she was three, and Regina hadn't, and that she would make sure Emma won the sheriff's race. And she'd been right. 

"To Mary Margaret!" the company echoed. "And to Emma!" Henry piped up, occasioning not a few smiles.

"To Emma!"

The party broke up into smaller groups, laughing and talking. Snow came to stand next to Emma. "Emma, what is Henry doing with -- Gold? He has no hold over the boy, does he?"

Gold was lurking in a corner, apart from the rest of the group, not surprisingly. What was more surprising was that he appeared to be absorbed in explaining something to Henry, while Henry listened with every indication of rapt attention. Emma said, "Well. Gold turns out to be good at, er, making kites." And other things. Henry had, somehow, uncovered a whole trove of knowledge about kids' toys and games that seemed wholly incongruous with all the other aspects of Gold's character -- though not, Emma thought, incongruous with the father Bae had described to her, the papa he'd grown up with. 

"I see," Snow said, moving to that corner. Emma, eavesdropping shamelessly, heard her say, "Mr. Gold," inclining her head regally. Gold gave her a little bow. "Miss Blanchard." Although Snow called him _Rumpelstiltskin_ and he called her _Your Highness_ , for tonight, among all the people who did not know the truth, they were back to their Storybrooke names.

Henry said, bouncing slightly, "S -- Miss Blanchard, Mr. Gold said he could teach me how to use a spinning wheel!" Emma saw Snow flick a startled, suspicious glance at Gold, who looked rather uncomfortable.

"Spinning wool to yarn, of course," Gold said quietly, and Emma saw some of the tension go out of Snow's shoulders.

The doorbell pealed again, and Emma turned from watching Gold and Snow to open the door. She found David Nolan smiling at her. "Congratulations, Sheriff!" he said.

"David?" Emma said, squinting at him. "Uh -- come in! Thanks for coming? It, um, means a lot to me. Really. It truly does." She wished, not for the first time, that she could talk to David in a less stilted way. For some reason, she could not act naturally around the man who was and was not her father.

"Yeah, glad you won, Sheriff," David said. "We're all pretty happy about it."

"Thanks. Um - so - how is Kathryn doing?"

"Oh, Kathryn? Fine -- she's with Regina right now," David said vaguely, drifting over to the corner where Snow was still talking with Henry and Gold. Emma sighed and turned to Bae and Ruby. She needed a deputy sheriff, and she thought Ruby might make a good one.

Ruby had agreed to think about being Deputy Sheriff when Emma noticed Snow again beside her, this time with David in tow. "Emma," Snow said in her ear, "he wants to talk. Might take a while. Is it okay if I--" she waved towards the door.

"Sure," said Emma. "If you're not back by the time the party's over, I'll conscript Bae and Ruby for cleanup."

*

Emma was wiping up the counters -- Bae and Ruby, having helped her clean up, had already left -- when the door opened and Snow blew into the apartment. Emma blinked. "Whoa, there. What happened? I didn't realize, when you said you were going to be a while, that you meant practically all night."

Snow rubbed her forehead. "It's... a long story. It started out all right, we were just talking, but eventually David declared his love for me, he couldn't get me out of my head, so on and so forth."

"So what happened?" Emma asked.

Snow shook her head. "Nothing happened. Unless you mean the part where I told him I didn't love him and that he should forget me."

"Oh," Emma said, and after a beat, "Was that hard?"

Snow barked a short laugh. "Let me tell you, Emma, it was way harder the first time I told your father I didn't love him, back before the curse. I thought my heart had been torn out of my chest. This time it was easy, because I don't love David -- well, I suppose I do, but what I love about him is James, and David is... He's cursed, is what he is, he's James with James' defining features taken out. Do you think your father would declare love for a woman while married to another? He would not." She looked at Emma. "Emma. Couldn't you just try?"

It wasn't the first time she'd asked. "Mom -- Snow -- we've talked about this. If I tried to break the curse on David and it didn't work, it would just make things that much harder. He would think I was crazy; I wouldn't be able to get near him again. Remember how it was when I kissed you, before you knew me? At least I was able to tell you it was for Henry's sake, since you were his teacher. I don't think David would buy that."

Snow paced around the floor of the apartment. "He's getting worse, though. And we seem to be thrown together more and more. I feel that Regina's tightening the curse around us." She wheeled around to face Emma. "Try it once. For me. I beg you. I think that perhaps we can make it work. If not, trust me. Trust me that I will make sure it doesn't mess things up permanently even if it doesn't work. And if it doesn't work, I'll defer to you from now on. Please. This is your father, Emma, and I know you love him, the man he was, so we're half done."

Emma hesitated. Finally she nodded. "Yes. I'll trust you. We'll try it once."

*

David looked very surprised, Emma thought, to see the two of them at the animal shelter. "Mary Margaret!" he said to Snow. "I thought, after our conversation -- um. I hadn't expected to see you again. Here. Particularly."

"David," Snow said, her voice low and intense. David looked almost frightened, Emma thought, almost unhappy to see them there. "David, I want you to do something for me."

"Um, I guess so. What's up?" His voice was calm but his eyes were agitated.

Snow took his hand. He made a motion as if to jerk it away, but did not. "David, you told me you loved me. Is that true?"

He glanced around furtively, apparently to see if anyone else was listening. His eyes moved to Emma, who tried to look as cheerfully trustworthy as possible, and back to Snow. He raised his eyebrows at Snow, who gave him a curt nod.

"Yes. Yes, it is," David said rapidly, as if by talking more quickly he could make it less likely anyone else would hear.

Snow gazed at him fiercely. "I love you too, David, and my -- my friend Emma here, I love her too, like a daughter. Can you, for a second, hold on to your love for me and see Emma the same way? As a beloved daughter?" Emma thought, looking at Snow's blazing eyes, _It was the right thing to do to trust her. Even if it doesn't work, it was the right thing to do._

He furrowed his brow. "Mary Margaret, are you sure you're feeling okay? You and Emma are practically the same age -- this doesn't make any --"

Emma stepped forward. "Can you do what she asks?"

He blinked. "I -- um." Snow took another slow step forward. He looked from Snow to Emma and back again. "What's going -- " He blinked, swallowed, stood a little straighter. "Yes, okay?"

"I love you too, Dad," Emma whispered, and before David could register the words, could protest, she took a last step forward and kissed his cheek.

His eyes opened wide. Something flickered behind them. Emma and Snow held their breath.

He gasped, "Emma. Snow. You found me."

And Emma and Snow smiled at James in relief and triumph and love. Snow said, moving to take him and Emma in her arms, "Did you ever doubt we would?"


	9. Skin Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little break from everyone's parental/filial angst, for... other kinds of angst! In this (and one of the subsequent chapters) there is a scene that has some elements in common with scenes in my NPT fic, "As on a Darkling Plain." (These scenes were written for this fic first, and I self-plagiarized to get the NPT fic done... sorry about that!)

With every second that he waited for the sheriff, Gold's mood became darker and darker. If she could not do so much as to recover one chipped cup for him, what matter that she claimed Snow had figured out something important about the curse?

"Ah, Gold," Emma called, taking off her jacket as she walked to her desk. "Good, you're here. Did you see that I recovered everything from your burglar, what was his name again, Moe French? Once you've gone through it, I want to talk to you about something Snow and I tried -- it worked really well on David, um, James. This is going to really speed everything up --" Emma, catching sight of his expression, faltered. "Is something wrong?"

"You've recovered nothing," he spat at her. "There's something missing."

Anyone else in Storybrooke would have given way before his anger; even Bae would have been cautious. Emma Swan, of course, was not afraid of him, which was either cocky or presumptuous, he hadn't decided which. She took his hand. "Gold." Her voice was gentle, but her grip was like steel. "You will tell me what is missing and why you're so angry. This goes beyond a loan default, beyond theft."

Gold tried to pull his hand away, but failed. "Sheriff Swan, this is not your business."

She pulled him closer, implacably. "Wrong," she said very quietly, her face almost touching his. "I'm the sheriff now -- whose idea that was I think you know -- and it is my business. It's my business if I end up arresting you and throwing you in jail because you do God-knows-what to Moe French, okay? Which I will do, if necessary, curse or no curse. So spill."

Gold finally worked his hand free. He looked around the office. Deputy Sheriff Ruby Lucas was not there, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she got back, and he had even less desire to tell his story to her than to Emma. "All right, Sheriff. Not here."

"Okay, Gold. Deal: we go somewhere you're happy with, and you tell me _all_ of it. And you know I'll call you out if you're not being truthful with me."

Gold flexed his fingers, wincing slightly. "I know. You're a ruthless woman, Sheriff. I rather like that about you. It's a deal, then. Come." He led her out the door. "It's your lunch hour right now anyway, yes? We'll go to my house."

"'Will you walk into my parlour?'" muttered Emma.

"'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy," Gold agreed, meeting Emma's narrowed eyes with a perfectly bland look.

He had his reward: Emma sputtered into reluctant laughter. "All right, you spider. I'll follow. I know where you live."

*

It was not, in fact, a particularly pretty parlor, Emma thought, not that she'd had much experience with them; it was dark and gloomy and filled with knicknacks. The food, on the other hand, was surprisingly good: salmon and vegetables in delicate sauces, of the kind that even she could tell were expensive.

In answer to her question about it, Gold said, "I got tired of stew in the Enchanted Forest. It seemed sometimes like it was all we ever had." He smiled across the table. It was not a nice smile. "And so, Sheriff. You wanted to know what's missing. A cup, that's all. A cup from a tea set. I do like my sets to be complete, and I _want that cup back_."

Emma scowled at him. "None of that's a lie, but just because I can tell you're not lying doesn't mean I'm an idiot, Gold. I know there's more to the story than that." She crossed her arms. "I'm going to stay here until I hear the whole story. Who was Moe French in Storybrooke?"

"Sir Maurice of Avonlea."

Emma sighed; this was rather like pulling teeth, although she expected that extracting Gold's teeth would be rather more pleasant and take less time than this charade. "And what was Maurice's relationship to Rumpelstiltskin?"

"He asked Rumpelstiltskin for a deal."

 _Aha!_ Emma thought. Now they were getting somewhere. "But I'm getting the sense he didn't make the deal. Did someone else?"

"...yes."

Emma raised an eyebrow, waited.

Gold said, reluctantly, the words dragging out of him, "His daughter. Belle." His mouth caressed the last word, and Emma thought triumphantly, _Jackpot!_ She ignored the slight twisting of her stomach at the way Gold said the name; why should she care?

She pressed forward. "Okay. Tell me the deal Belle made with you. The entire deal, mind you, no leaving out key parts."

"Her family and people were ravaged by the ogres," Gold said distantly, his eyes unfocused. "I saved them, in exchange for her. She came with me, to be a caretaker for my estate. I suppose it was a whim; the Dark One and I enjoyed making deals with what people desired most, or thought they did, to prove a point." He stared at a point above Emma's head. "But Belle confounded me from the first."

Emma realized that Gold was no longer talking to her, that he was lost in his memories of the Enchanted Forest, that she had somehow unlocked a gate to things he had kept tightly closed away, memories he had never told anyone else. Hardly daring to breathe lest he come back to himself, she let him talk: the tenuous connection Rumpelstiltskin and Belle had forged, Rumpelstiltskin letting Belle go, Belle coming back and attempting true love's kiss, Rumpelstiltskin's fear he had been betrayed, Rumpelstiltskin throwing Belle out. The Queen's revelation that Belle's father had shut her out. Belle's death.

Gold closed his eyes. "Belle had said," Gold continued, still in the soft voice he had been using, "that I had made my choice, and that I would regret it forever. And that all I would have would be an empty heart and a chipped cup." He opened his eyes. "She was wrong about that, you know. I did make my choice, but I have never regretted it for a moment. It was worth it, for Bae. Everything has been worth it, for Bae. But -- I was very angry at her. For demanding that I make that choice. And more angry at the man who is now Moe French."

Emma said, her voice low, "It wasn't just their fault. I know, I understand, you don't want to face it --"

Gold looked at her for the first time in the last hour, frowning. "He was her father. He shut her out." He slammed his hands on the table; his voice rose to almost a shriek. "He had her love and he _shut her out_! It's his fault, not mine, _his fault_ , when I find him--"

"Stop," Emma said quietly, and at the sound of her voice Gold did stop. He leaned back in his chair. Emma could see his hands gripping the table, the knuckles white. If Gold went after French, while he was in this state -- Emma shuddered at the thought. She said gently, "No. I think you know that Maurice was not the only one at fault here. But it's in the past, it's over. The only thing you can do now is not to add to what's already been done. _Think._ Would Belle have wanted this?"

Gold passed a shaking hand over his forehead. "Belle." He was silent for a while. Emma had started to wonder whether she needed to try some other tactic when he finally said, "All right, Sheriff, you'll have what you desire. I shan't interfere with Mr. French. _If_ you get back what is mine."

Emma relaxed slightly, hearing the truth in his words. The crisis was over, she could see; Gold wouldn't go off in that dangerous mood, not this time. "It's the right thing to do." 

"And why," Gold snarled, "should I care about that?"

"All right," said Emma, sighing. She could tell Gold was just striking out randomly because he was himself hurt, but it still stung. "Just as long as you behave."

*

Emma, leaning against her desk, checked her watch as she heard Gold's cane tapping down the hallway. It had been four minutes since her call to him. Huh. She hoped Gold hadn't run over anyone on his way. She flourished the cup at Gold as he walked into the station. "I told you I'd find it," she said triumphantly.

Gold grabbed the cup from her, cradled it. "Where was it?"

Emma grinned, folding her arms. "Henry found it for me. Regina took it from French, as you'd suspected, and put it in her own china cabinet. I suppose she was trying to do a Purloined Letter kind of thing, and it would have worked except that Henry's a really observant kid. He'd already spotted that one of the cups didn't match, although he didn't know why. Once I told him what I was looking for, he figured it out right away."

Gold snorted. "Trust Regina to do everything right and then to make a silly mistake like underestimating Henry." He regarded the cup closely, running his finger over the jagged edge where it was chipped, as if it were an heirloom, a jewel. Finally he sighed, put the cup down on Emma's desk. "When it was taken from me, I was very angry," he said. "It felt like it was the one thing I had left from Belle, and it had been taken from me."

Emma raised her eyebrows. This was, she figured, as close to an apology for Gold's earlier outburst as she was going to get. Close enough, perhaps. 

Gold continued, "But... well. It's in the past now." He nudged the cup away from him, towards Emma, with a small self-mocking smile. He regarded her intently. His look slowly became more serious. He was very close to her; as she had sometimes felt before, with him, it was as if there was something strange between them, tingling in the air.

A sudden loud noise made them jump apart. Sidney Glass had entered the station, and he was picking up papers and books that had been knocked to the floor.

"Uh, Sidney, what are you doing here?" Emma asked. "Is there something you wanted?"

"I thought there was," Glass said. "But, you know, I think I already have what I need."


	10. Parents and Children

Emma peered at the paper, one of many littering Snow's table. Only Gold, she suspected, would be able to make sense of the complicated diagram on it, labeled with people's names. She looked up at him, sitting next to Snow and, as usual, in the seat farthest away from Bae. He'd said very little for the entire meeting, seemingly barely paying attention. "Gold, hey, you there? Look, I'm not sure --"

"Give it here, Emma," Bae said, grabbing it from her. He clicked his tongue, cross-checked with something on his laptop. Apparently he had no trouble deciphering it. He drew a heavy rectangle around the name _Ruby/Red_ centered over a line intersecting several others. "I think Emma may be ready to tackle Ruby now," he said, glancing at Snow for confirmation. Gold stirred restlessly but said nothing. 

_Hey_ , Emma wanted to say. _Ruby's_ my _deputy, I'm the one she's going to connect with if the curse-breaking kiss is going to work, why are you looking at her?_ Would that be petty? It would be petty, she decided, and remained silent.

Snow looked up from the diagrams in front of her. "I think you're correct," she decided. "Tomorrow, Emma, we'll go find Ruby and try to break the curse on her. And on her grandmother for sure, if it works on Ruby, which I don't see any reason it wouldn't."

"All right."

The number of people who were now walking around in Storybrooke with two sets of memories was growing steadily. James had insisted Emma kiss Kathryn Nolan immediately, giving rise to a startled but on the whole very much relieved Princess Abigail. Snow had brought Emma to Leroy/Grumpy, whom Mary Margaret had bonded with during the Miner's Day festival; and Grumpy had brought Emma to the other dwarves and to Nova. They'd found out, elation growing with each new success, that the curse-breaking kiss transferred over several links in a chain, as long as there was love at every level of the chain, as long as each level acknowledged that love. Nova loving Grumpy loving Snow loving Emma; Emma loving Snow loving Grumpy loving Nova: it _worked_.

Not all the experiments had been successful. Abigail had pleaded with Emma to kiss Frederick, the gym teacher, even over his protests as well as Snow's warnings that the Storybrooke version of Frederick hadn't acknowledged any love for Abigail or Kathryn. He had not regained his memory, and he now rather tended to avoid Emma when he saw her coming. Abigail was trying to convince him to try again. Doc didn't have his memories either; though Sneezy had assured Emma the two men loved each other, Doc refused to acknowledge it.

"Okay, great," Snow said, rising, "it sounds like we're all sorted now. I've got to go to a parent-teacher conference; I'll see you guys later." She smiled at Emma as she went to grab her jacket. "James will be home from the shelter in an hour," she told Emma; "he had to stay late today because of the doves--"

"I know, I was there when he called," Emma said, making the words as level as she could. "I'll see you both later, all right?"

Gold also rose, collected his cane. "Your Highness, I'll go out with you," he said, looking at neither Bae nor Emma as he hobbled out behind Snow.

As soon as the door had shut behind the two of them, Emma turned to Bae. "Listen. About Gold --"

"Emma, if you're going to nag me again about going to see him --" Bae started angrily.

"I'm not," Emma interrupted. Bae paused, looking confused. "Look, Bae, I'm starting to see how hard it is for you. I'm not going to push you; do what you think is right. But I just wanted to talk through something with you. I saw him the other day, and he was very angry about -- well. You can ask him. He was angry. I thought he might injure someone. Badly."

"Not to kill, I think," said Bae, frowning, diverted by this new information about his father. For someone who didn't want to talk to his father, Emma thought, he certainly did hang on every word Emma had to say about him. "But he might, yes, do something cruel, before he was stopped."

"I talked him down. He won't do anything. But that's why he was so distracted today, I think. And it made me wonder exactly what he was capable of."

Bae snapped shut his laptop and absently started gathering the papers up into piles. "I think," Bae said, "that it was a good thing you were there. Once you were there, he was able to listen to you." His expression became softer, almost wistful. "That's my old papa in him. The Dark One was never able to listen to reason. Maybe he's starting to think in a different way. Maybe I should try to --" He glanced at her. His eyes widened, and he put down the papers he held. "Emma," Bae said slowly. "Are you starting to -- care -- about my father?" 

Emma twitched. Of course she wasn't. Was she? Bae had always known these things about her before she herself did. He was the one who had warned Emma off a romantic entanglement with August, some time before the encounter that had resulted in Henry. She remembered the contradictory emotions she'd felt as Gold had told his story; the way Gold had looked at her, with the chipped cup between them. "No! Of course not! I mean, he's an attractive man, but --"

"You're digging yourself in deeper, Emma."

Emma looked at him. "Would it bother you, if I did? Care about your father, I mean?"

Bae's eyes narrowed in thought. "You mean, because I grew up with you? I think it might bother me, if I'd been from this world," he said. "It seems to not be a common thing, here and now. But in the villages of my time, in the Enchanted Forest, there were so many deaths that, well, such things seemed rather a luxury to be bothered about. There had been talk of betrothing my father to my childhood friend Morraine, for example, although it didn't in the end go anywhere, and she was conscripted in any case. It was just -- one of those things."

Emma digested this silently. Bae went on, "That's not something that bothers me, but as you know, there's no shortage of other things I worry about. I wish you would _think_ \--"

Emma's lips quirked. "That sounds like something he would say," she remarked wryly, and immediately regretted it when Bae's face froze. "Hey. I didn't mean -- I know you don't want to be like him --"

"I do want to be like him," Bae said softly. "I want to be like the father I remembered. Just --"

She raised her eyebrows in question.

"I want him to be like the father I remembered, too."

"He's never going to be that, Bae," said Emma quietly. "There's too much that's happened to him, and to you too. But if he were willing to try -- could you meet him halfway?"

Bae gave her a weak smile. "I thought you weren't going to nag me, Emma."

"Yeah. Sorry." 

*

" _Rumpelstiltskin?_ " James demanded. "Why is _he_ helping us?"

"That's what I said," observed Snow, folding her arms. They were ganging up on her, Emma thought. Two against one, really not fair. Perhaps she should have dragged Bae in on this conversation. Or Henry, who was clearly developing a soft spot for Gold. Or, for that matter, Gold could have come to defend himself against the onslaught.

"I don't trust that wizarding imp any farther than I can throw him," James muttered. "Less."

"We've been partners in this, Gold and I," said Emma. "Without him, we wouldn't have known how to break the curse at all." Hadn't she already been through this? "Mother, you have to admit he's been helpful." 

"Well," Snow said briskly to her husband, "supposing you help as well, James. Then you can judge Rumpelstiltskin's contribution for yourself." Which was neither a confirmation nor a denial, Emma noticed. "We're still having problems with coming up with a good plan to get the Queen out of Storybrooke. Bae and I have been working on it, but I think we need a fresh eye."

"Of course I'm going to be involved in this," James said, throwing his hands in the air. "These are my people too, you know. I'm responsible for them! I just wasn't at your meeting earlier because I didn't realize it was happening when the shelter asked for help with the doves."

Emma rolled her eyes. She wondered how many others who'd had the curse broken would insist on being part of the plans. Snow's apartment was going to get awfully crowded, at this rate.

"And don't you roll your eyes at me, young lady!" Snow snapped. Snow and Emma glared at each other. 

James shook his head. "Gods preserve us all," he said. "And here I thought it was Regina we were all going to fight with."

There was a moment of frozen silence. Snow was the first to start laughing. "Oh, Emma. Okay. I know, I've been weird about it this whole time. It's just -- hard to adjust. I knew that when the curse was broken that you were going to be an adult. But in my head you're still a baby, you know?" She sobered. "I hate that I didn't get to see you grow up. I wish I'd been able to be there for you during all those years. I even wish I'd have gotten to see you as a toddler having tantrums, a rebellious teenager -- I miss it all. Sometimes I imagine you as a little girl, imagine what it would be like to have been with you all that time. But it's not fair for me to take it out on you. I'm sorry."

"I know what you mean," Emma said ruefully. "It's not fair of me to expect you to be something you're not, either -- some part of me thought you were supposed to be the mother I imagined when I was a kid, you know, someone who would make chocolate-chip cookies and put bandaids on me and tell me you were proud of me."

Snow paused. "I know you miss Mary Margaret," she said quietly. Emma opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. She was ecstatic to have Snow, the mother she had yearned for her entire life -- but -- Mary Margaret had been her friend. She had loved Mary Margaret.

"Mary Margaret's still inside of me," Snow said gently. "She's still part of who I am. I still -- " Snow grinned briefly -- "have her chocolate-chip cookie recipe in my head." She added after a moment, "And I'm probably better at patching people up than Mary Margaret was; I got good at first aid when I was hiding from the Queen. And Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Emma, I am so proud of you. I am. Don't ever doubt it for a second."

*

There was nothing, Emma thought, that could take the bloom off of making up with one's mother quite like going outside the next morning to find said mother's truck had a large red TRAMP spray-painted on it. 

It wasn't entirely surprising. When Kathryn Nolan had gotten her Abigail memories back, she and David-James had immediately filed for divorce. Once it had become known that David and Kathryn Nolan were divorcing, people had started shunning Snow, who said she didn't care -- "It's much better than being hunted for murdering my father, quite frankly," she'd said -- and she had been the target of quite a few insults and snubs from a surprising number of people. Any one of whom could have spray-painted Snow's truck.

"Of course it was Regina," Snow said, when Emma made a remark to that effect. "It was certainly not, say, Granny Lucas. She'd snub me in the street to my face, but she'd never do that. She has far too much class for that. No, it was Regina. This kind of passive-aggressive seething -- it's got Regina written all over it."

James raised an eyebrow. "You call casting a curse on the entire Enchanted Forest passive-aggressive?"

Snow gave James a warm smile that made Emma feel just the slightest bit jealous. The kind of love Snow and James shared -- what must it feel to be part of something like that? "Perhaps that's not quite the right word. Taking the easy path emotionally, maybe. It'd have been difficult to actually have it out with me, wouldn't it? To actually, gods forbid, _talk_ about how I hurt her? Far easier just to hunt me down, invent a grand revenge plot, curse everyone in sight."

Her lips quirked. "How the mighty have fallen, though. Queen Regina, reduced to petty vandalism? Dear, dear. I suppose it's a step up from throwing fireballs and force-feeding poison apples."

"I bet she's still even got the spray paint bottle," Emma said. "I bet if I went right now--" She dug her keys out of her pocket. She'd been trying to avoid Regina, knowing her propensity to act without thinking might get her in trouble, might alert Regina to things they didn't want her to know, but if Regina thought she was going to mess with her _mother_ \--

"I don't know about that, Emma," said James, "don't you think you'd better --" Emma didn't hear the rest of it because she was already on her way. 

*

Emma burst into Regina's office and started opening drawers as Regina stared at her incredulously. "This is highly inappropriate, Sheriff. Do you have a warrant? You can't just come in here and--"

Emma opened another drawer and there it was: a can of red spray paint. Emma threw Regina an exasperated look. Regina said quickly, "I confiscated that."

Emma sighed. "From whom?"

"Sidney Glass. He's been desperate for stories for the newspaper lately -- has even resorted to vandalism in order to manufacture news. I'll get a full confession from him, if you want."

"Um," Emma said. "Yeah, that's okay, you don't need to do that." 

Regina said, sounding resigned, "What _do_ you want, Sheriff Swan?"

 _I want all of this to be over. I want the curse to be broken._ She stopped herself from saying any of that. "I want," Emma said distinctly, "for you not to do anything like this anymore. I want for you to leave Mary Margaret alone. She doesn't deserve any of this."

"She deserves it all," Regina snarled, but quickly mastered herself. "Or so one might surmise by what Sidney did." Emma considered the other woman, eyes narrowed. Did she, then, remember the Enchanted Forest? But if so, surely she would have done something more than spray-paint Snow's truck. Surely this was only Regina Mills, not Queen Regina. Emma needed to figure out a way to ask her without giving away how much Emma herself knew.

"Is there anything else you want, Sheriff, or can I go back to working in peace?"

Emma hesitated. The question about whether Regina remembered would have to wait until she'd figured out a better strategy. Something to ask Gold, perhaps, at their next meeting. But she had promised Henry, a while ago, and she wasn't going to get a better chance -- "Yeah, one more thing I want," Emma said. "I want you to tell me: do you love Henry?"

Regina blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?"

"Henry. Do you love him?"

"Of course I love him, Sheriff. He's my son. Now if you would get out of my office, I would greatly appreciate it."

Sidney Glass opened the door. "Regina, I was trying to track you down all day yesterday. There's something important you need to --" He cut off at seeing Emma. "Um." He made a complicated gesture with his hands, something that could have been _What is she doing here_ or _I have gossip about her_ or _I've got to tell you about spray-painting Snow's truck_.

Emma didn't care what Glass had to say. She left, numb.

Regina had been lying.


	11. Spinning the Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other scene that shares elements with a scene in "As on a Darkling Plain" is in this chapter. Again, written first for this fic; apologies for the self-plagiarism. (At the time, I didn't think this one would get posted...)

"Tax evasion," Charming said, slapping a sheaf of papers down on the table. Gold watched him look around at the other people assembled in Snow's apartment: Gold himself, Snow, Emma, and Bae. Charming had, Gold thought, developed a sense of theatrics since Rumpelstiltskin had first met him and Snow White, since Rumpelstiltskin had realized that their true love was the last ingredient he needed for the curse. Things in the past, Gold thought. Things that were past and done, and all that could be done now was not to add to them. To -- help break what had been done. 

Charming continued, "We've been trying to figure out for a while how to get the Queen out of Storybrooke in order to break the curse, and this is how. No need to elaborately con the Queen into doing something stupid and illegal." Charming, very pointedly, did not look at Gold. He did smile at Emma, who delightedly grinned back. 

Gold repressed a sigh. He felt a small feeling of respite during these meetings, when he could see Bae, reassure himself that his son was there and whole, without having to worry about Bae asking him difficult questions about the magic. But it was still hard sometimes to watch Charming with his own daughter, who clearly adored him.

"We've got Regina right here," Charming went on. "No one in Storybrooke has paid any taxes for twenty-eight years, but it's particularly bad for the Queen, since she's the mayor. I'm actually surprised no one from the IRS has noticed yet."

Gold was, reluctantly, impressed with Charming's idea. "That'll have been the curse, keeping Storybrooke suspended in time, so discrepancies like that weren't noticed. But now that the curse is starting to crack, now that Emma's broken all the parts she has --" he looked at Emma, who looked away from him --"yes, now it will be possible to inform the outside world that Storybrooke has been here the whole time."

"How long will it take you to set this up?" Emma asked Charming.

Bae answered her. "The curse will have done most of the work for us, in terms of the lack of tax payments. I'd say, oh, a week, maybe less -- depends how many loopholes we find that we have to plug."

"In the meantime," Emma said, "I can continue to break the curse in pieces, the way we've been doing." Her eyes slid to Gold and away, flicked to Bae, an almost guilty expression on her face. What was the matter with her? Gold thought crossly.

"This seems like a good plan all around, yeah," Gold acknowledged. "It's an excellent idea," he said to Charming, who gave him a grudging nod. The shepherd prince was clearly still suspicious of him. Gold rather approved.

Bae said curiously, "James, I've been meaning to ask you, how did you think of that, anyway? Snow and I had been trying to figure out something for forever, and you just came up with that immediately!"

Charming grinned at him. "Before I was a prince, I was a shepherd," he said. "Death and taxes -- they were what we dealt with every day. They're the two things that seem to be constant, across the worlds." 

*

It was late when the meeting broke up. Snow and James finally went off to bed; Emma decided she very much didn't want to think about that -- with Mary Margaret it hadn't been an issue, but somehow it was different with her parents, even if they were all grownups. Bae, yawning, declared his intention to go as well, giving Emma an uncertain look that she entirely ignored. He went out the door, his father watching him with a silent intensity the entire time -- honestly, what was the matter with the two of them? -- and as the door closed, Gold got up from the table with his cane, preparing to leave himself.

"Gold, stay a minute," Emma said, busying herself with shuffling some papers, not looking directly at him; she felt odd about meeting his eyes after the conversation she'd had with Bae. "I wanted to ask you about something. I want a way to try to figure out exactly what Regina knows." She would not think of what Regina had said about Henry. Just about what the woman knew, and what she might or might not try to do to Snow.

Gold frowned, leaning on his cane. "I'm not sure we need that, not now. It would only serve the purpose of possibly alerting Regina to what we're trying to do."

"No, wait, I've actually been trying to work through this, you'll be happy to hear. When Graham and I found Regina's crypt, he thought his heart was there. Well, that can't literally really be true because there's got to be something pumping blood in his chest, but if we set up something where she --"

"You've been to her crypt?" He stared at her. "Her crypt of hearts is here, in Storybrooke? With all the magic that must entail? And you didn't think to mention this until now? Emma, you really need to think about things more!"

"I'm mentioning it now, aren't I?"

He raised his eyes heavenward, briefly. "Yes. And not too late, I imagine; it doesn't appear that she's used the magic there for anything except to control Graham, and, I suppose, any others she has." He snorted. "A failure of imagination on her part, I'm sure. Well. Before she figures out she can harness that magic, you need to show me where it is. I need to take care of this immediately."

"What, right now? It's the middle of the night, Gold!"

He made an impatient gesture. "Yes, right now. This can't wait."

*

Yes. He could feel the magic, all up and down the crypt, the concentrations of it that must be the hearts the Queen had collected, that she still kept there. With this magic, he could -- he could --

"What are you going to do, Gold?"

"Not your concern, dearie," he said, his attention only half on her words, still seeking out the magic. The magic itself was yearning towards Emma; it knew that she was a focus, that the curse was working through her. Interesting.

" _Gold_ ," Emma warned. " _Tell me._ "

Gold sighed. "I'm going to extract all the magic from the crypt."

"This," Emma said grimly, "is why I want you to tell me about your plans. There are people's hearts in there! One of them's Graham's!"

"Of course," Gold said. "And I should be shocked if she hadn't got the heart of Albert Spencer -- George, your charming father's pseudo-father, that is -- in there. And probably others as well that I don't know about."

"We've got to -- save the hearts," said Emma. "You can't just get rid of the magic; that'll kill the people, won't it?"

Gold tilted his head, considering her. "Are you seriously suggesting that we pack up the hearts in, say, boxes, and take them into town? Perhaps throw them in the river?"

"No, of course not, but -- isn't there some way to, I don't know, give them back to their owners?"

He shook his head. "No. It's impossible. Without magic I can't do anything that would help with that."

Emma frowned. "That wasn't quite the truth, Gold. Try again."

He said reluctantly, "It's not quite impossible. Magic to magic. The magic used to keep the crypt operating could be converted into a magic that gives those people their hearts back. But it needs two people to operate, one to provide the focus for the magic, the other to draw it through."

"All right. Well, aren't there two of us here?" Emma raised an eyebrow at him. "What's the matter? Aren't we partners in this thing?"

He did not answer her; his mind was elsewhere. The faint hints of the magic, swirling there restlessly, there for the taking, desiring a master: the magic sang through his blood, eased the pain in his ruined knee, made his bones ache with longing. To give up his chance at it -- Emma was looking at him curiously. "Come on, Gold. I mean, even you have to admit it's the right thing to do in this case."

He mastered himself. The magic in the dragon, the magic compounded from Snow White and Prince Charming's true love, was still there, was still his, was much greater than this paltry bit Regina had kept. And, after all, he would still need Emma's help to obtain it. It wasn't worth rousing her suspicions over this. He thrust down the feeling that he didn't want her to be suspicious of him, didn't want her to think of him that way, wanted her to -- think well of him. "Yes. Yes, of course. I'll have to draw it through."

"And what do I have to do?" Emma asked.

"Nothing. The curse itself makes you a focus for magic. Well -- put your hands out, like so. Yes." He gathered together the magic pooling in her hands, drew it finely.

She frowned, looking at where his fingers had touched hers. "What are you doing --" The clue dropped. "You're spinning the magic."

"There are other ways to do it," Gold said shortly, reaching for more magic. "This is the easiest for me." Except that getting lost in the magic might be a problem. Usually, he welcomed the sensation of the magic swallowing up everything else, but this wouldn't work if the goal were to transform the magic to set it free instead of his natural reaction of hoarding it.

Might he take it for himself?

No. Emma's truth-telling instinct would catch that.

And why did he care that she should know?

Because he -- needed her. To -- give him the magic in the dragon. Yes. That was it. The true-love magic, down under the library, still waiting for him, to make him whole.

*

Emma watched Gold as he spun the magic out of her hands, his fingertips touching hers in swift motions, his eyes almost closed, his face with a relaxed concentration she'd never seen in it before. This, she thought, was the man Bae had told her about, had yearned for. This was the sheep farmer whom she had only previously seen in flashes and quick glimpses: a man telling a boy about a kite, or pushing a chipped cup towards her.

After a few seconds, still spinning, he murmured, "Emma."

"Yeah?"

"I need... I shouldn't get too deeply in. 'S dangerous. I'll forget. Talk to me. Tell me something... something important. Tell me about -- Henry."

"What about him?"

"Anything. What was he like when he was born?"

Somehow, in the circle of quiet created by the magic and the spinning, it was easy for her to talk to him. To tell him about those dark days, the knowledge she needed to give Henry his best chance, the way she had given a piece of her heart away that she had only now, this year, gotten back again.

"Yes," he sighed. "Bae was the same way. I fell in love with him the moment he was born." 

And to the sheep farmer, to Bae's father, to the man who could admit he loved his child, she could tell him what she had never told Henry or Bae or even (or especially) Snow. "I failed him. My baby. I let him go. I sent him here, to Regina... I didn't know what else to do, I couldn't bring him into this, I knew I had to break the curse, I couldn't raise him and do that too. But I failed him, leaving him with her."

"Parents fail their children all the time," he said softly. "I know that better than most. How cruelly I failed Bae, when I let him go... But you didn't fail Henry, not in this." His hands seemed to be slowing down. She shivered as his fingertips brushed against her own, slowly, more slowly. His words, too, were coming more slowly and in a richer accent, a more lilting rhythm, in time with his fingers. "You gave him his best chance. You gave all the people of Storybrooke their best chance. You know that."

"With the Evil Queen?"

"Regina is many terrible things, but she's always loved Henry." 

"When I asked her if she loved him," said Emma, unable to keep the anguish out of her voice, "she said she did; and she lied, she _lied_ \--"

"Ah, now." His voice was more gentle than she had ever heard it. "Don't fret so, dear heart, you know better than that. What do you think Regina's idea of love is, then? Aye, she loves the boy, though she doesn't know what love is herself. I care about Henry as well, you know I'm speaking the truth. She's always protected him from the worst parts of herself, always been there for him. Though he's old enough now that he needs more than protection, yes, he needs a light to follow, the light you can give him." 

The words were almost like a caress, warm and comforting, like the touch of his fingers. Emma breathed out. "I can't believe he's ten now."

"They grow up so fast," Gold murmured. "Before you know it--" 

His fingers made a motion, and he let go of her hands entirely. As she watched, his tranquil expression became more guarded. The corner of his mouth turned up in what was almost a sneer. "The magic's all transformed, now. I hope you're satisfied." His voice, too, was losing its gentleness, was becoming the velvet-over-steel disciplined tones she had always heard him use before.

"So the hearts are back with their rightful owners?" asked Emma dubiously.

He made a gesture. "Yes. You may notice a difference in some of Storybrooke's citizens tomorrow. I've done what you asked. Even if not--" he gave her a thin mocking look-- "because it's the right thing to do."

Emma's lips twitched. It was a bit hard to adjust back from the gentle sheep farmer she had seen a moment ago, who had talked to her so soothingly, to the cool, controlled man who now stood before her. "Sometimes I don't get you, Gold," she said. "Sometimes you seem almost decent, and sometimes you just --" She shook her head, not knowing how to say what she meant. "Would you be helping me at all if it weren't for Bae?"

Gold's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. The smile didn't reach his eyes, and in that moment she knew that the sheep farmer was still there, was still part of him. "Bae... is a good man. I never was. I'm trying to learn, with his help." His face calmed; a bit of the gentleness returned to it. "And," he added quietly, "with yours."

He started to turn away. Moved by his words, by what he had showed her of himself, Emma said, "No, wait." She caught hold of his hand. He froze. After a minute, his fingers closed over hers, and he raised his eyes to look at her. She leaned forward and kissed him gently. He tasted, somehow, of cinnamon. His hand tightened on hers as he kissed her back.

He pulled away slightly, met her eyes. His were brown, and wide, and for a moment free of the complicated calculations they usually harbored. "Emma," he breathed--

There was a loud cracking noise, and both of them looked up.

"The structural integrity of the crypt has been breached," Gold said sharply. "We need to get out right now."

*

They'd just managed to run to Emma's car when there was another cracking noise. Gold exhaled, relaxing his grip on the last of the magic. There was a louder noise as masonry and scaffolding fell. As the magic left him entirely and the loss of it pervaded him, he fell against the side of the car, his leg buckling under him.

"Whoa, Gold!" Emma ran to help him up. "Hey, you okay?" She frowned in thought, keeping hold of him, steadying him. "You weren't limping, while we were running."

"No. I wasn't." His knee twinged with pain as she helped him into the car. "I was holding some residual magic in place to keep the crypt up as we got out," he said. "It infused my knee. It's all right -- it's just that I forget not to lean on it, when the magic is gone again. It'll be fine in a minute." He leaned back in the car seat, closed his eyes exhaustedly. The magic, the _magic_ \--

Emma started the car. "I'm glad we got out in time," she said. "Gold, you'd better not fall asleep there, you'll regret it in the morning." He groaned slightly in protest but obediently opened his eyes. "Did you know that was going to happen?"

"Regina always did like to cut corners. She must have used some of the magic to hold up the crypt instead of making sure it was constructed properly. I should have seen that. I was..." He grimaced. "Distracted."

Emma raised her eyebrows, grinned slightly. "Distracted?" 

Distracted. She had kissed him. 

Not to break a curse. Not, as far as he could tell, because of any ulterior motive, or because she wanted something from him. Simply because she was who she was. Simply because she wanted to.

He felt as if there were walls he had thrown up in his mind that were crumbling. Or as if he were a green and scaly monster, turning human at her touch. He did not know what he thought about that. 

"Emma... we should..." He groped for words. "Think about this." Though he was not certain how lucid he would be. The effort of transforming the magic without falling into it had tired him more than he had expected. He wasn't entirely sure he was making sense right now.

"Yeah. But it's two in the morning right now, and I'm exhausted, and you look like you're about to collapse." She glanced quickly at him, and her lips turned up at his wince of agreement. 

"Yes. Yes." He needed time to recover from his exhaustion. To think. To understand what was happening to him. Emma, _Emma Swan_ \-- "Tomorrow?"

"Oh God, Regina's going to be horrible tomorrow, isn't she? With her crypt gone and everything? How about tomorrow evening, then. I'll come over when I get done with my shift." She smiled at him, a tired, happy smile. He wanted to capture the smile and see it forever.

They were at Gold's house. He ran his fingers over hers, as he had done while gathering the magic, and watched her tremble. He smiled back at her. "Yes. I'll wait until then, Emma Swan," he said, and got out of the car. His knee cooperated. Good. He felt her eyes on him as he unlocked the door and went inside.


	12. The Cost of Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jedibuttercup, THIS CHAPTER is why I left that anonymous question on your NPT Dear Author letter, lo these many months ago. I hope it meets with your approval. *is nervous* You asked for honesty between them, and that's what you're going to get...

Gold sorted through a pile of trinkets on his shop counter, his hands moving quickly, mechanically, while his thoughts whirled around in chaos.

_Emma Swan._ He could not stop thinking about her lips, her fingers curled around his, her smile -- and even more than that: the way she had opened herself to him, shared what she felt with him, told him about her fears. Somehow it had been more intimate than the kiss had been.

_You could free yourself_ , Belle said to him inside his head, the voice he had not allowed himself to hear for many long years. _You could have happiness._

Not yet, he thought, not quite. What Bae had said to him, when they had first come to Storybrooke, had been correct. When the curse was broken: then she would, he would, know who he was. When all that was hidden became known, when the magic -- He realized, with a start of surprise, that he had not yearned for the magic, the power, had not even thought about it, since Emma had dropped him off the night before. All his thoughts had been of her.

Who was he? What was he becoming? This kind of thinking was new to him. He felt that something strange was happening to him, perhaps had been happening ever since Bae and Emma had come to Storybrooke. It felt -- it felt as it had felt when the Dark One started taking over the way he had thought about things, at the beginning of his curse, but in reverse. As if the patterns of his mind were struggling free from a long dark cloud.

So close they were to breaking the curse. And then what? And then--

The shop door clanged. The air swirled and sparked in his magical sight, and his head went up quickly, but it was not Emma. It was Regina, the caster of the curse. "Mr. Gold," she said.

"Mayor." Gold studied her; she looked angry and stressed. Much the same as usual, that is. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Gold, I found this morning that my father's crypt is damaged beyond repair. What do you know about this?"

"My dear Mayor, why would you think I know anything about that?" He leaned forward on the counter, gave her a small edged smile. "You'd never even told me his crypt was here."

Her eyes narrowed. "Even so. Emma Swan knew about it, though."

"Emma Swan," Gold repeated slowly -- _Emma_ \-- and something about the way he said the name made Regina's face change subtly, her eyes becoming opaque. He frowned uneasily. "My dear Mayor. Are you trying to strike a deal with me? For information about Emma?"

Her eyes did not leave his. "Perhaps."

"Unfortunately for you, a negotiation requires two interested parties," he said softly. "You no longer have anything I want, dear." And one last thrust: "I believe it's time for you to leave. _Please_." As he said the word, he watched with satisfaction as Regina, her eyes wide and angry, fighting against the curse's hold, jerkily stepped out the door.

Normally Gold deployed the power of Regina's obedience very carefully. All magic had a cost, magic to magic: the price of this small power was that he was constrained in the same way to obey the next person who said the same word to him. But sometimes it was worth it to annoy her. And it was not terribly dangerous: Regina never, ever said _please_ to him.

*

Regina rubbed the bridge of her nose. She could feel the incipient headache lurking behind her eyes, and she hadn't even finished reviewing the plans for the new park. She pushed the plans aside; she wasn't going to have time to do it before the meeting she had scheduled with Emma Swan.

Her thoughts turned to the sheriff. Regina had, eventually, decided to look the other way when Henry sneaked out to spend time with Emma; it wasn't worth all the arguments, and Emma herself seemed disinclined to push it any farther than the occasional meeting. If she had tried to take Henry away from Regina, if she'd ever hinted that she thought she was better than Regina-- but she hadn't. And as an additional bonus, it seemed to calm Henry down and make him a little less outspoken about telling all the people in town that they were under a curse.

The curse, the curse. Something seemed to be going wrong with the curse. She'd been too busy with overseeing the construction work at City Hall, the preparations for Miner's Day Festival, the environmental fallout from the mine cave-in earlier in the year, the new park that was going to be opened soon, all the varied concerns that made up her job as Mayor, to pay as much attention to it as she ought to have. And now, all her plans to make Mary Margaret suffer seemed to be unraveling. Graham had disappeared. Emma Swan had taken the Sheriff position from her.

And Gold. Regina had always thought of herself and Gold as partners in the whole matter of the curse, ever since Rumpelstiltskin had made the curse for her. But somehow Emma had managed to take him as well. And in the process, Emma had made all her plots go wrong. Regina had thought she'd had the perfect plan when she'd convinced Moe French, the fool, to steal the china set from Gold. She'd _known_ that Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't have been able to resist the bait, that she'd be able to extract something from him. As she was used to doing. But somehow he'd resisted going after what was his, something she'd never seen him do before.

And she knew who was behind that.

Somehow Emma had convinced him to wait, had convinced him not to take vengeance on Moe French, had left Regina without something she could exploit. Had cheated her. She didn't know how, but she was sure she could blame it on Emma.

And worst of all, her crypt of hearts, the ceiling crumbled, blocking the entrance. She could not even go in to see whether the hearts were still there. It could be a coincidence. It could. If there were such a thing as coincidence in this town. But Gold had been so cagey about it that she was all but sure that he had been involved. Gold and Swan.

How to break that alliance? She'd spent quite a while worrying over that question, in between overseeing construction and planning parks. But then Sidney had informed her that he'd seen Emma and Gold together, looking for all the world like guilty teenagers. And she had confirmed it this morning in Gold's shop. He thought she wanted to make a deal, did he? She'd given up on that after the fiasco with French. No, she'd only wanted to see his face when she said Emma's name, and she'd gotten what she wanted. And now she thought she knew how she could break them. Love made people so vulnerable, after all.

And there, in fact, was Emma Swan herself, right on schedule. The woman was punctual, Regina had to give her that, at least. "Ah, Sheriff." Regina sat down behind her desk. "Have a seat."

Emma eyed her with suspicion and remained standing. "I'm not quite sure why you asked for this meeting, Madame Mayor."

"Such hostility," Regina purred. "I merely wanted to give you a bit of advice, Sheriff."

Emma raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

Regina said, "Now, Sheriff, it's come to my attention that you and Mr. Gold are... allies. I thought I should warn you about getting in bed with this particular snake."

Emma actually blushed. It was delightful. Regina smirked. Emma said sharply, "I haven't gotten in bed with anyone. I'm just --"

Regina wagged her finger at Emma. "You might ask this... ally of yours... what he had to do with a particular curse that Henry does keep talking about. Whether he was the maker of the curse, in fact." A calculated gamble. Was she giving away too much? If Emma didn't know anything, if this conversation told her things she hadn't known before --

Emma stared at her. "He created the curse?"

Not even a pretense at wondering what Regina was talking about. Regina realized she'd been going after the wrong target, trying to get information. All her work with Gold, wasted, but all she had to do was drop the right word in the Swan woman's ear to find out what she knew. Well, she'd have to think about how to extract more information from the woman. After she finished with the plans for the park. This was enough for now, she thought, looking at Emma's shattered expression. She shrugged. "Ask him. And if I were you, I'd be asking myself: should I be working with someone like that?"

*

It was Gold at Emma's door. Of course it was. "Emma?" he asked, sounding concerned. "When you didn't show up --" He saw her face and broke off. "What's wrong, dear?"

Emma faced him. "I talked to Regina. She told me-- she said--" Emma swallowed. "Did you make the curse for the Evil Queen?"

He didn't even have to answer; the expression on his face answered for him. Emma spun away from him. She said wildly, "You did this. You. My parents -- _Henry_ \-- my family -- the whole world -- it was _you_." Her eyes widened as something else occurred to her. "And how did Henry get to Storybrooke? You were the one who found Henry for Regina, weren't you?"

Gold came up behind her, put his hand on her shoulder. He said softly, "I did it for Bae. I did it so I could find my son. So that I would be taken to this universe, where he was. So that he could find me too."

Emma angrily shrugged his hand aside. "Don't touch me! You _bastard_. You monomanical bastard. And you knew it the whole time I -- we -- How _dare_ you. How dare you even _talk_ to me after you -- you --"

Gold said, "Wouldn't you have done the same for Henry?" There was an unfamiliar note of pleading in his voice. "Crossed the barriers of time and space, done whatever you had to, so that you could find him again?"

Emma flung herself into a chair, buried her head in her hands. _Henry._ "No. Yes. I don't know. I would give anything for Henry, you know that. But not -- not separate other families for his sake. And even if I would have, it still doesn't make it right. Gold. Just... leave. I can't deal with you right now. Please."

She heard a drawn-in breath, a pause, then the sound of the cane and his foot scraping across the floor before the door closed quietly after him.


	13. The Thing You Love Most

The doorbell rang. Gold, startled, reached for his cane and limped to the door. Was it Emma? Surely it could not be. Could it?

As he opened it, he heard the growl: " _Rumpelstiltskin_!" He had just enough time to register who it was before he was punched in the jaw. He fell in an untidy heap, grunting with pain, his cane clattering to the ground.

Had Gold been what he once was, the man who struck him would now be a flower, or a puppet, or a quite ordinary dead man. But he was -- not quite that person, anymore. And he had always rather liked the shepherd prince. His brows rose as he looked up at his assailant. "Charming. Did that make you feel better?"

Charming winced, shaking out his hand. "A little, yes," he admitted. He looked slightly shamefaced. "I, um, apologize. I keep thinking you're--" He waved his hand a little. Gold had no trouble interpreting the gesture as _still the powerful wizard who could best me in a swordfight_ , and he realized that Charming had fully expected him to fight back, had possibly expected to be turned into a flower or a snail. His lips quirked very slightly. He supposed he had a good idea where Emma had gotten her streak of impetuosity. _Emma_ \--

Charming cleared his throat, apparently trying to regain the initiative. "So, Rumpeltsiltskin. How dare you even look at my daughter, what did you do to her, and where is she? And where is my grandson?"

Gold said, dusting himself off and picking up his cane, "One, your daughter is an adult, the last time I checked, and more than capable of taking care of herself. Two, she will tell you herself if she wishes you to know. And three --" He stared at Charming as the prince's words fully registered. "I have no idea where she is. Or where Henry is. Why are you asking me?"

"Because," Charming said, clearly holding onto his patience with a heroic effort, "for some reason I do not understand in the slightest, she seems to like you. A lot. And because she has been absolutely despondent since you left our apartment earlier, and neither Snow nor I can find her now. And Henry's not answering his walkie-talkie, and you know the boy always answers his walkie-talkie, even if you call it in the middle of the night."

Gold looked at him in consternation for a long moment. "Baelfire," Gold croaked finally. "Bae. I must talk to Bae."

*

"Yeah, okay, I hear you," Gold heard Bae yell from the other side of the door in response to his continued knocking. "I'm _coming._ " The door opened. "Emma, you don't need to break the door d--" He stopped. Stared at Gold. Grabbed Gold's arm and hustled him inside the room, closing and bolting the door. "What -- what are you doing here?" he stammered. Gold had never come to see his son, and all at once this seemed ridiculous to him, but he could not think about it now.

"Do you know where Emma is?"

Bae gaped at him. "Emma? No, why would I know?"

Gold turned away from him. "I thought that she might have come to you, after I talked to her. Charming and Snow can't find her or Henry."

"What? Why?" Gold looked back at his son, saw Bae's eyes narrow in suspicion. "What did you do to her? What happened?"

Gold opened his mouth. "I made --" His voice failed. He made another effort. "She found out I made the curse for Regina."

Bae's eyes widened. Gold found that he still, after all these years, could sometimes read his son, could see the connections clicking into place one by one. "That explains so much," Bae breathed. "I knew there was something you were keeping from me. And I didn't see how you could know so much about the curse. But why --" And then Gold saw the last piece fall into place for his son. "This world," Bae said. "The curse brought you _here_."

"Yes -- it brought us here to this world, where you are," Gold said. "It was the only way to bring myself to you --"

Bae whispered, holding on to the doorframe as if for dear life, "You cursed the entire world. And there's no way back, is there?"

"No," Gold said hoarsely. "It had to be that way." Bae would leave him now, too --

"You did it for me. You loved me that much." Bae's voice tore with a curious blend of pain and wonder. "And here I was convinced you had forgotten me. I never understood how you could say you had been looking for me all along, how Emma could tell me it was the truth, I couldn't trust you because there was so much that didn't make sense. Oh, Papa--"

There was a silence. Gold limped over to Bae's bed, sat down, put his head in his hands.

Bae followed him, sat down beside him. "I can't -- tell you what it means to know how much you love me. I love you, you know that, you've always known that. But what you've done, what you did--"

"Baelfire," Gold said, raising his head. "Bae--"

Bae shook his head. "I -- don't think what you did was right. But I can't judge you, Papa, not in this, not when you did it for me." 

"Bae," Gold whispered. "Son."

Bae closed his eyes. "Oh, Papa." He opened them again. "And oh, Emma. She knew I would want to side with you, and so she didn't come to me."

Gold stared at his son; he felt a peculiar sensation with Bae's words, as if something long broken inside him was painfully knitting itself back together. "You -- would --"

"I love you, Papa. You're my father," Bae whispered, "my family. Of course I'm on your side. I always have been. I just --" Bae swallowed -- "I didn't know if you were on mine."

"Yes," Gold said hoarsely, finally daring to take Bae's hand. "Of course I am. I love you, son."

"More than--" Bae stopped, pressed his lips together. Gold saw that Bae had come to the limits of himself, that he could not bring himself to finish, could not now bring himself to question his father about the magic once again. For the first time, the thought brought Gold no relief, but yet he could not answer Bae. Could not.

Bae said, after a pause, "But Emma and Henry, missing --" Gold could see him wresting his thoughts back to the problem at hand. A practical boy, Bae had always been. A good boy. Gold ached with love for him, pain for what he had put Bae through. "Have you tried reaching Henry on Graham's old walkie-talkies?"

"Yes, Charming tried that. But nothing. I think she's taken the boy and run." If he could not find her, he would-- he would-- he was not quite sure what he would do.

"We'll look for her. Even if she gets out of Storybrooke, I know enough about computers, and Emma's taught me enough about finding people, that I'm pretty sure we can track them down. We probably need to, in any case. If Regina finds out Henry is gone -- well. The last thing we need while we're putting the finishing touches on the plans against the Queen are charges against Emma for kidnapping." He paused, looked at Gold. What he found in Gold's face made his expression soften. "You care about her a lot, don't you?"

Gold hunched over. "Perhaps. I... swore not to love anyone after you -- after I let you go. So that nothing would interfere with my finding you."

"Oh, Papa," Bae whispered. "I would never have asked that of you."

Gold smiled bleakly at his son. "I know. I asked it of myself. And there wasn't... there was only one moment in the other world where I was tempted to break my vow, and that would never have worked; so many ways I wronged her, so much evil I brought upon her and hers, in the end... And then you came, and I was free again to be happy. And Emma--" He took in a breath. "She's like you, son. A light, in the darkness."

"Papa," Bae said, squeezing Gold's hand, "I know. But you can't -- can't be what you were. Honesty is the only way, if you love someone."

Gold studied his son, seeing a badly-suppressed note of worry and fear in his eyes. He wondered how much Bae really knew, or suspected, about the magic Gold had hidden away. He knew Bae would tell him, if he but asked; and he could not bring himself to ask. All the silences between them: he did not know how to cross them.

He looked away. "What can I do to make her come back?"

"Oh, Papa," Bae said sadly. "Love isn't like that. You have to let her go, and if she comes back, then she does. And all you can do is to be the sort of person that one would want to come back to."

Gold thought about Bae's words all the way to his shop, where he retrieved a vial high up on a shelf marked TOXIC. The words ran in his head all the way to the boarded-up library. _To be the sort of person that one would want to come back to._ _Honesty is the only way, if you love someone._

_Of course I'm on your side._

He did not think about what he was doing. He knew that if he thought about it, he would turn back. He thought about Bae, and about Emma, and about Belle, and then about Bae again. He thought about mothers and children who were lost. He thought about an empty heart and a chipped cup. He thought about the panic in Bae's eyes.

Love, as any wizard knows, is a powerful thing, but it is also a delicate flame. Even true love. Very difficult to come by, difficult to extract, difficult to retrieve -- but easy to kill. Easy to destroy. A mere poison -- even a nonmagical one, that wouldn't even kill a dragon -- can do the trick. The poison doesn't even have to be delivered by hand; it can be thrown down, say, an elevator shaft. The fumes alone will be enough.

"Easy, Mal," he said softly to the beast below, as the vial smashed on the rocks below and the dragon stirred. "Here. This won't hurt you, dearie, not one bit. It'll only hurt what lies inside you." And the dragon breathed the fumes, curled up again. "Sleep, dearie," he crooned. "Sleep until your own curse is broken. Sleep, knowing you no longer carry anything of importance, no magical power. The magic is gone now, gone for good, dearie." As he said the words, he felt the dragon slowly blink, close her eyes. He could feel her drop back into dreams as the poison unwound the magic. 

Gold felt one last sharp spasm of agonizing loss as the magic dissolved completely into nothingness. And afterwards, as he had expected, there was pain, the longing for what was gone, but it would fade; soon there would be only an absence where the pull of the magic used to be.

He left the dragon, not looking back. "For you, Bae," he whispered. _Bae, Emma, Belle, Bae._ "Once I chose the magic over you. This time, I choose you."


	14. Mothers

The sun had just risen, and fingers of light were just extending over the floor of Snow's apartment, when Emma staggered in the door. 

Snow was sitting at the table grading papers for Mary Margaret's class. She said, her voice carefully controlled, "Where have you been? I don't think any of us got any sleep last night. James, Bae, and Rumpelstiltskin are still trying to find you. They're all worried sick about you." Her eyes not leaving Emma, she reached for the cell phone on the table. "James? Yes. She's here." A pause. "Yes, why don't you take them out for coffee. The diner will be open." She put the phone down.

Emma gave her a wry look. "You weren't worried, I see."

"I know you, Emma. You're my friend -- Mary Margaret's friend -- as well as my daughter. I knew you'd come back eventually, though I didn't think it would be so soon. And I'm angry more than worried. That was an idiotic thing to do."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left," Emma said dejectedly.

"You're right. You shouldn't have. We're all depending on you, and you're half done. So why, after everything, did you just go? Leave your family, without a word? And what about Henry? You're his _mom_ , Emma. You abducted him?"

"Maybe. Well. Henry and I talked. He convinced me to come back."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think running is best for him? You have to do what's best for him."

Emma said softly, "And what's that?"

"I don't know," Snow snapped. "I'm not his mother. But I'm yours, and I have to think about what's best for you. Running away and Regina charging you for abduction not being among them."

"I'm sorry," Emma said, collapsing in a heap on the couch. Snow raised her eyebrows. "I thought -- I thought I was alone. I'm -- not used to having a family at my back."

"That's what family is, Emma," Snow said severely. "Charming and I are always at your back. Even now, when I'm so mad at you I could spit, I'm still on your side, don't you know that? And Bae, what do you think he's been for twenty-one years, if not your family?"

_But he was Rumpelstiltskin's family first,_ Emma thought. "Mom," she said -- _if you're on my side, I need you to answer me_ \-- "have you ever forgiven someone who did you a great wrong?"

Snow came to sit beside Emma, the anger in her face and voice draining away, concern taking its place. "Oh, sweetie. What did Rumpelstiltskin do?"

Emma closed her eyes. Even in the midst of her pain, she reveled in the luxury of being able to complain to her own mother. "Mom, he -- created the curse. That brought all of you here to Storybrooke. It was because of him that I was left by the side of the road. It's because of him that Henry's adoptive mother is a psychopath. It was all his doing!"

"Oh," Snow breathed. "I... see. That's... Oh, Emma." After a moment, her hand came up to Emma's hair, caressing it in long, soothing strokes. "You know, Emma, I forgave Regina once, and I'm figuring out how to forgive her again."

Emma started violently. "You _what_? But that's even worse -- Regina -- she tried to kill you so many times! She gave you the poisoned apple -- she _cast_ the curse, she intentionally separated you from my dad and -- and -- from me --"

Snow nodded. "Yes, she did all that. And I'll understand if you can't forgive her -- but I need to, Emma. Because I loved her, once. And it doesn't do me a damned bit of good, to hate her. It doesn't help you, or James, or our relationship, and it poisons the love I do feel for you, to have hatred of her eating away at me. Rumpelstiltskin himself told James that in the other world, when I erased my memory, when he sent James after me."

Emma frowned uneasily and said nothing.

"And I can't help but realize that she's changed, Regina has. She's -- well, people don't like her, they're afraid of her, but they're not afraid her knights will come in the middle of the night and drag them away. I'm not afraid that she'll try to kill you. She hasn't killed anyone, since we've been here."

"That might just be because it isn't easy for her to do, what with the restrictions of the curse and this world," Emma pointed out.

"Nevertheless. I think the curse has changed her as well. She's -- not the best mayor I could imagine, but she's _involved_ , she's a part of Storybrooke, in a way she never was part of the kingdom when she was Queen. And," Snow added, "Regina -- she's had problems. Her mother was pretty horrific; that's one of the reasons I can forgive her. I was lucky enough to have wonderful parents, and I don't know what I would have been like if I'd had terrible ones."

"That's the other thing," Emma whispered. "Gold -- Rumpelstiltskin -- did it for his son. And -- and if it were Henry -- if I could do the same thing -- if I were tempted like that -- I don't want to think about it."

It was not that she could not understand what Rumpelstiltskin had done. Part of the horror of it was that she could. That she understood, all too well, the pain and love and fear and longing that had driven him to sacrifice an entire world so that he could see his son again, so that he could have his family again. That so easily she could see herself making the same choice.

But she would not sacrifice the whole world to have her son, her mother, her father. 

Would she?

"You wouldn't do the same thing," Snow said softly. "You didn't. You gave your son away, for the sake of the world Rumpelstiltskin cursed, and for Henry's own sake. To give us all our best chance." 

Her hand on Emma's hair stilled. "Think about it," she advised. "I'm not saying you have to love him, honestly I'd prefer if you didn't-- because really, Emma, _Rumpelstiltskin_? -- only that you might find it best to forgive him." Snow took a deep breath. "And Emma. I want you to know -- I'm sad and grieved and angry at Rumpelstiltskin, that I wasn't in your life for so long, that I was robbed of the years I could have spent with you -- but there's one thing I'm grateful to him for, if he created the curse," Snow said.

Emma looked at her mother questioningly.

Snow smiled at her daughter. "You are such a brave, sweet, amazing person. I don't think I could possibly ask for a daughter -- or a friend -- more wonderful than you. And I'm glad that Rumpelstiltskin's curse, whatever else it did, has allowed me to know the person you are now."

*

Emma lay on her bed, hands behind her head, looking up at the ceiling. Her talk with her mother had helped, not least the wondering feeling of being able to bring her problems to her mother. Who loved her. Who might be her own age, but who had seen things, done things, _felt_ things, that Emma could only imagine.

Could she forgive Gold? She wasn't sure. She thought that perhaps, with her mother's help and her mother's example, she would be able to, when she wasn't quite so raw. Maybe. But there was something else -- something the conversation had made her think about, something --

Something that should have been obvious from the time she'd kissed David Nolan and her father's curse had broken, even though David did not love her. Because David had loved Mary-Margaret-Snow, and Snow loved Emma.

_Regina is the caster of the curse. If you could give Regina Mills true love's kiss, the curse would unravel itself._ So Gold had said at the beginning. And Emma had decided there was no way she could love Regina, and no way Regina could love her, so there was no point in going down that road. And she had clung to that, refusing to face the obvious, because it was easier that way. Easier than thinking about what she must do to take this other path. Easier than knowing she must face, head-on, what Regina was; face what she felt about Regina and about Henry.

But now she forced herself to take all the steps, one by one, all the links in the chain: Emma loved Henry, and Henry loved Emma. And Gold had told her that Regina loved Henry as well. And if Henry loved Regina --

*

" _Do_ you love Regina, Henry?"

"She's the Evil Queen," Henry said sharply.

Emma breathed out. "She's your mom." She paused. "Tell me the nicest thing Regina's ever done for you."

Henry stared at her. "Why are you asking that?"

"Henry. It's really important. I'm serious. It is really, really important. The more things you can think of, in fact, the better."

"Um," Henry said. "Okay. Um. There was this book I really wanted, it was before Miss Blanchard gave me the Once Upon a Time book, and my m -- Regina -- she checked everywhere in Storybrooke, and she couldn't find it, so she contacted lots of other people, it was out of print and hard to find, and finally she wrote to the author and had her send me one of her old copies. That was really cool."

"That's good," Emma said encouragingly. She realized she was jealous of Regina. That won't do, she told herself sternly. "How about when you were a baby? Has anyone told you any stories about nice things she did for you when you were a baby?"

"Dr. Whale used to tell me about the time I got really sick when I was a baby, and I was having really awful diarrhea, and Mom -- Regina -- she stayed home with me and cleaned up all my diapers, and he said that she was really good with me, and he hadn't thought she'd be good with babies, but she totally was." 

He paused. "Oh yeah, that reminds me, I forgot, I had the flu last year, it was before you came, and, and, she held my head when I threw up, and the time I didn't make it to the bathroom, I thought she'd yell at me but she just gave me a glass of Sprite and tucked me back in bed, she was really nice about it, and she put cold washcloths on my forehead when my fever got high, and when I got better she made me my favorite apple turnover, and when I felt really awful Mom was very --" He hesitated, his face screwed up in an uncertain expression.

"Comforting?" Emma suggested. 

And Henry dissolved into tears. "Oh, Henry," Emma said helplessly, gathering the sobbing boy up in her arms, hating herself for hurting him. "Henry, it's okay."

"It's not okay," Henry said between sobs, beating his fists against Emma's shoulders. "It's not okay. It's not okay for me to love her -- she's evil, I shouldn't love her, I shouldn't, I _shouldn't_ \--"

"Shhhh," Emma murmured, rocking him. "Oh, Henry. Of course you love her. She's your mother."

"You're my mother."

"I'm your biological mother, yes," Emma said, "and I love you very, very much, and I always have, and there's nothing that will ever change that. Ever. But it's all right for you to love her too. It's all right. Sometimes --" she swallowed -- "sometimes people we love do bad things. Sometimes they do things that are really awful. We don't love the bad things they did, and maybe it means things can't work out between us in some ways, but that doesn't mean we don't love them. It doesn't mean that we have to deny our feelings for them.

"But she doesn't even love _me_!" Henry howled.

"She does," Emma whispered. And louder: "Oh, Henry, she does. She cares about you, her idea of love is so warped that she doesn't even know it, doesn't believe she loves you, but she does, Henry." She found herself speaking back Gold's words as though they were hers. "She's always taken care of you, protected you, even from herself. She does love you." And then, more slowly, she repeated Gold's other words, recognizing they were true as well. "You know I'm speaking the truth. Henry, you _know_." She should have known about Henry, Emma thought. They had all underestimated him. She should have known from the day he showed up at her door, declaring that Storybrooke was under a curse even though everyone else he knew, everything else he knew, said otherwise.

Henry, in her arms, had calmed. "Yeah," he said. "I know." He sniffled, an absurd and endearing sound. Emma held him tightly.


	15. Families

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to elementals for help on the last paragraphs!

There was a tentative knock at Emma's bedroom door. "Come in," she called.

Snow poked her head in. "Emma, honey? Bae's here. I didn't know if you wanted to see him--"

Emma sat up. "Yeah, actually, I do."

The door opened wider and Bae came in. Emma scrutinized him. Bae looked -- almost cheerful. More relaxed than Emma had seen him for weeks. Months. Maybe years. "You've made up with Gold," she said flatly.

"Yeah," Bae whispered, not meeting her eyes. "Kind of. Halfway. I'm sorry, I know what he did to you, I --"

"All right," Emma said, not feeling all right.

"Hey," Bae said, trying to smile. "This world has indoor plumbing. And computers. And no ogres."

"Are you trying to _defend_ him?" asked Emma incredulously. "You know what he did, Bae. You _know_ what it was like for me."

Bae passed a hand over his forehead, a gesture Emma had seen Gold make before. It made her heart clench. "I know. I'm sorry. He's -- he's my father, my family. But you've been my family, here in this world, longer than he was my father in the Enchanted Forest. It's just -- hard."

Emma sighed. Yeah, it was hard. She knew Bae; she understood that he must feel even more strongly about his father than she did about her parents; she understood why he had clung so to his father when he knew how much, after all, his father had loved him. She had known Bae would be on his side -- but it still hurt.

But it didn't matter right now, anyway. There were other things she had to talk to Bae about. She tried to remember how Bae had always supported her in breaking the curse; how Bae had made breaking it his own life's mission, not just hers. That was, as Bae had said, much more of their lives than this had been. So. Their friendship would move forward. Eventually. "You didn't come to talk about this, I think. There's something about the curse?"

Bae perked up with relief. He wanted, Emma could see, for everything to be normal between them as much as she did. "Yeah, that's right, I think we're pretty much there, with Regina and the tax evasion. In another day or two it'll be at the level where all I have to do is press a button and all the evidence and information gets sent to the IRS, and it'll be out of our hands then." 

He frowned. "I wish I didn't have to set it off, though. No one in Storybrooke's paid any taxes, so this could have negative ramifications for almost everyone, especially anyone in a position tied to the governmental bureaucracy. Including you, although since you haven't been here for twenty-eight years like everyone else, it's not nearly as bad for you. But I wish there were another way."

"Maybe there is," Emma told him. Yes. The two of them would manage, after all. And, she thought suddenly, if it hadn't been for the curse, she and Bae would probably never have met, would never have become each other's family. Not ever having known Bae seemed, for a moment, like the saddest thing she could imagine. "Listen. Here's what I want to try."

*

Snow poked her head into Emma's room again. Emma wondered if Snow was trying to manufacture reasons to check in on Emma, to make sure, perhaps, that Emma wasn't trying to run off again; whenever either Snow or Charming was there, they seemed to always have some reason to talk to her. Of course, she supposed, it could also be that they wanted to spend time with her because she was their daughter. Families. Huh. "Yeah?"

"This time," Snow said apologetically, "it's Rumpelstiltskin. I told him you didn't want to see him, but he said it's about the endgame, he just wants to talk about one thing, and he won't stay if you don't want him to."

Emma closed her eyes. She'd worked out most of the details with Bae specifically so she wouldn't have to talk to Gold, but she guessed that Gold wanted to overrule one of the details she'd specified, and Bae had thrown up his hands and told him to talk to Emma. Though when Gold wasn't proposing one of his overly-convoluted of-dubious-moral-value plans, he did usually have good reasons for his opinions. "Yeah, that's okay."

She opened her eyes again to find Snow studying her. "Emma, are you sure?"

"Yeah." She sat cross-legged on the bed, waited. Gold limped into the room. She hadn't seen him since she had confronted him about the curse. There was a bruise on his jaw; where had that come from? She was not going to ask. He looked older, unhappy, his face lined with worry. She knew it was because of her, but she told herself she didn't care.

All right, she did care. That was the hell of it.

"Emma, I --"

"I don't want to hear it, Gold. Say what you came to say."

There was a silence for a moment. Gold sat down heavily beside her on the bed, sighed. She felt very keenly the nearness of his body, was very conscious of how easy it would be to put a hand on his thigh, how it would be so easy to lean over and graze his lips with her own. If she did that, she knew, his arms would come up around her, and -- Damn it. Gold was right; she needed to think before she acted. It hadn't occurred to her that kissing him once would make her want to kiss him again, that having him near her would now be a torment. Of course, she'd had no way of knowing at the time that she'd be so angry at him now.

Well. Not anger, not anymore. Talking to her mother had done that, at least. Just sadness, and a lingering hurt, and a great weariness.

"Bae told me about your plan," said Gold, eyeing her warily, as if afraid she'd run again. "I don't think it's wise. I don't think Regina will go easily. I think you should just let Bae go on with the original tax-evasion plan."

Emma shrugged. "You're probably right that she won't go easily," she said, "but I need to try this. Can you understand that?"

"No," said Gold simply. He paused. "But I can see I'm not going to stop you. In that case, I think I should be there when you confront Regina. You need backup, in case things anything goes wrong. Especially since I never planned for the curse to be broken this way." She winced, and carefully did not look at him to see his reaction. He went on, "Bae knows enough about magic that he could probably do it, but the plan depends on him for the computer part; he shouldn't be anywhere near the Queen when this goes down. Which leaves me."

She raised her eyes to his. "And I'm to trust you to be my backup? That's hard, you know. Especially knowing your nature." 

There was a flicker of pain in his eyes, and she knew her words had found their target. "I do see it would be difficult to trust me as a -- a friend. But I think you need to trust me as a partner in this, yeah. We've worked together on this, even if not--" his lip curled up, bitterly -- "for the right reasons."

Emma thought about it. He had a point, she supposed. But -- "Here's the other half of that. Then you need to trust me too. Trust that I know what I'm doing. That I don't need another crazy plan that only you know the details of. That I'll signal you if I get in over my head, and that you don't need to protect or save me otherwise, unless something goes catastrophically wrong. For instance, I'll have to ask you not to show yourself while I'm talking to Regina. I think, I hope I can reach her, but I'm definitely not going to be able to if you're around and she knows it."

He considered her. Finally he said, "You have a deal, Emma Swan." He held out his hand.

She took it. His hand was warm. Those long fingers, what if he used them to -- _stop it_. She hastily let his hand go. Her only consolation was that he might, if his sharp intake of breath and unfocused eyes were any indication, be having the same problems she was, but that, of course, made it even worse.

An awkward silence fell. He looked away from her, took a deep breath, let it out again, grasped his cane. "I'll work it out with Bae, but I think we're just about ready." He started to get up.

"Gold."

He went absolutely still. After a second, he turned toward her, his expression carefully composed and neutral. "Yes?"

"What's it like to raise a child from birth?" _What has been taken from me? What would it have been like for me, if I had grown up with my parents? What would it have been like to raise Henry myself, if I hadn't been consumed with breaking the curse?_

He searched her face. Emma didn't know what he found there, but finally he nodded, settling back on the bed, leaning on his cane. In a quiet voice, not touching her, not looking at her, he told her about Baelfire as a baby, the long sleepless nights of colic, the way he learned to sing his son to sleep. Watching Baelfire learning how to walk, taking a step, falling down, picking himself up again. The way he thought his heart might burst with joy the first time Baelfire smiled and said, "I love you, Papa." The anxiety for his son, as he got old enough to be subject to dangers he didn't understand. The amazement at watching his child caught out of time a moment, mesmerized by the simply commonplace, rendering it beautiful: rain on a spiderweb, a deer pacing on silent hooves to feed, the labor of ants carrying food ten times their size. The way his heart bled the first time his son was hurt by a chance remark flung by someone he had thought a friend. The thrill at the astonishment on Bae's face as he found the wool thread spinning through his hands was even and straight, far more even than it had ever been before. The moment when he knew the soldiers would come for Bae, the moment when he felt, down to the soles of his feet, exactly how far he would go to protect his child. The heartbreaking realization -- the fear, the love, the aching pride -- the bone-deep knowledge that his boy was a fine human being: all the things he wished he could be and wasn't, brave and true and upright, and wondering how that had happened. 

His voice husked away to nothing. They sat in silence for a long time. Finally he said, his voice barely audible, "I'm sorry. Forgive me." 

Emma had the oddest sense that he had never used those words before, not even to Bae.

"I'm trying," she said, her voice low.


	16. The Best Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jedibuttercup, thank you for being such a great recipient and prompt-writer :) It's been really fun!

Gold cautiously tried the door of Regina's house. It was unlocked, and the door swung inward silently. Good. He made his way inside, taking care to walk very slowly so that the cane and bad leg didn't make any noise on Regina's tiled floor.

He heard voices raised in anger. Emma and the Queen. He turned the corner and saw them glaring at each other, almost nose-to-nose, both with almost identical antagonistic expressions, each so caught up in the other that neither noticed him at all. Gold almost moved to flank Emma, to show himself to the Queen-- _the Queen will know how powerful we are together, she will know she cannot stop us if only I show myself_. Or -- he thought, _I still have time, I could contact Bae, he could send off the information right now; the curse would be broken before Emma knew what was happening._

He heard Emma's voice in his head: _Trust me._ And he kept still.

And all his senses started vibrating, including his magical senses. Emma was starting to coruscate with magic, as if she were glowing with purple light. He thought, of course I was drawn to her, the woman with all the power. Of course.

"Regina," Emma said. "Mayor. Your Majesty. It's over. We've nailed you for tax evasion. All that's required now is to send the information to the IRS, and that's only a moment of work."

"No," Regina said, shaking her head, backing up. "No. No. No." 

"Yes." Emma moved forward inexorably. "You will go off to a federal trial and a federal prison, leave Storybrooke, and in any case the curse will be broken."

Emma was going to win, Gold thought, he had always known she would, and suddenly he also understood why it mattered to her how she won. Because she loved Henry. Because she loved the people of Storybrooke. Because she was a shining light, a beacon, that he followed.

"There is another way," Emma said to Regina, her expression softening. "A harder way, but a better one. You love Henry, and Henry loves you. And he loves me, and I love him. And because of this I can give you true love's kiss and break the curse that way. And you won't lose Henry. You'll lose your power, you'll have to accept me in Henry's life, you'll have to figure out how to live among the people whose lives you destroyed, they might demand revenge or restitution, I don't know what will happen. I think it will be more difficult for you than prison would be. But you won't be taken away from Storybrooke, from Henry. You'll still be his mother. He will know that you loved him enough to do that for him."

"You can't do that," Regina said, shaking her head, whether in denial or despair Gold could not be sure. "You can't love me, Emma Swan, you can't forgive me, not after all I've done to you. It's not possible."

Emma laughed abruptly, the surprised laugh of someone who has just discovered something she didn't know she knew. "I've forgiven worse than you've done to me. I've forgiven the maker of the curse." Regina raised startled eyes to Emma. Gold's heart gave a leap of shock and hope. "So I've had practice. No, Regina, I can't say I've forgiven you yet. But Henry loves you, and I can look beyond what you did for just a minute, to do what's best for Henry. Can you? Can you be Regina Mills, and not Queen Regina?"

"No," Regina said again. "No, no, no, no."

The magic light around Emma dimmed. Emma sighed. "All right," she said, starting to turn away--

"Yes," Regina whispered, so softly Gold could hardly hear her. "For Henry."

But Emma heard. And grasped Regina by the shoulders. "For Henry," she echoed. She kissed Regina's cheek. Regina shuddered and closed her eyes.

And in Gold's magical sight, a rainbow flickered around them, running over them, washing over him, and exploding outward into Storybrooke. As it exploded, he had just a moment of hesitation, of thinking -- I could, I could still try to take this for myself -- and as he thought this, the magic light around Emma, and now, Regina, grew brighter and brighter until it was impossible for him to see anything but light, light -- _too much light_ \--

*

The first thing Emma felt was pain: her whole body on fire. The first thing she heard was her name: a frantic "Emma? Emma!" Who was that? she thought muzzily. It sounded a bit like Gold, but surely it couldn't be him. She couldn't imagine him frantic. He was the man who knew everything -- no wonder, she thought, that she had wanted him from the beginning. No wonder.

The pain was starting to recede. With an effort she opened her eyes. Gold was hovering above her, looking extremely worried. "Thank all the gods," he said, his voice shaking. "I thought -- I thought -- when the curse broke, all the magic was siphoning through you and Regina -- I thought I wasn't quick enough to ground it, to dissipate it, I thought it had destroyed you both --" And that was another thing she'd never have been able to imagine, Gold with his usual control shattered, his words falling over each other.

She struggled to sit up, winced. Already, however, the pain seemed to be dying away. "Ow. Is that what it is." She grimaced. "Ugh. I think I'll be okay, though. Regina?"

"Same as you." Gold's worried frown was easing. "I think you'll both live. I'm -- glad I was here, though; the feedback loop would have killed you both otherwise."

"Huh. I'm glad you were here too." Her lips turned up, despite herself. "You were right. That I should trust you about magical backup."

"Now how about that," he said softly, "Emma Swan admitting I'm right." He cleared his throat. "You... were right, too. About trusting you to know what you were doing."

"Now how about that, Mr. Gold," she returned, smiling. "Hey, give me a hand up."

"Always," he said, and helped her up. They looked at each other. There were no longer any strange sparks between them, only his hand still clasping hers, cold but firm. "I thought you had died," he whispered raggedly, "I thought -- my fault --" and they were kissing, kissing, not the brief sweet kiss they had shared before, but something ravenous, desperate, clutching each other tightly, his other hand tangled in her hair, the feel of his mouth on hers both slaking and adding to her hunger for him --

Emma pulled back. Gold made an inarticulate noise of protest, and she ached with wanting him, but she needed to say -- "Gold, Rumpelstiltskin, you know I told Regina I forgave you. And I do. I do forgive you. I don't regret who I am now because of the curse. But I don't know if I can forget. There's too much. I don't know if this can work. We'll just keep hurting each other, driving each other away."

Gold subsided, though he did not let go of her. She could feel him trembling. "Emma," he said hoarsely, "I know it's difficult. But I'm trying not to be what I was. And I think I might love you, when I had thought never to love again. And even if we do drive each other away, maybe I can be -- the sort of person you would want to come back to."

"Oh, Gold," Emma said, laying a hand against his face, "I think -- I could -- love you too --" and then they were kissing again, and she started losing herself in the kiss, in the feel of his lips against hers, in the feel of his body against hers, his hands curling around her --

"Mom," she heard Henry say, his voice strained. He was standing at the top of the stairs. She broke away, turning toward him, but Henry was not talking to her. He had eyes only for Regina. "Mom. You did it. You helped Emma break the curse the right way. Oh, Mom, Mom, you love me, you _do_ love me --" And he hurtled down the stairs into Regina's arms, and she held him close, her face buried in his hair.

She turned to Gold to see him staring at the door. "Bae," Gold breathed, and Emma followed his gaze to see Bae running in the door, with Snow and Charming right behind him. "We all felt it," Bae said to Emma and Gold. "The backwash of power, of the curse breaking, and we got here as fast as we could." 

He stepped to Gold, took his hand. Emma saw tears in his eyes. "Papa. _Papa_. I felt it, the curse breaking, the magic dissipating -- I felt you throw it all away, I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't, I shouldn't have doubted you -- Papa --"

Gold -- Rumpelstiltskin -- pulled Bae into his arms. "No, you were right, Bae," he whispered. "You were always right. It was only with you and Emma that I found the strength to let it go, I'll tell you all about it. My son, my beautiful boy, you forgive me, you truly forgive me--"

"Oh, Papa," Bae choked, "I love you so much--"

Snow came to Emma. She didn't say anything, just took Emma's hands in hers, but the love and pride in her face was so strong that Emma could hardly breathe. Emma looked at Snow, at James next to her, exchanging a wary nod with Gold before smiling at Emma; at Bae and Gold; at Henry; and she thought: I have a family. The family I've always had, the family we made. And she felt a sense of peace filling her heart.


End file.
